


The Blurred

by Blood_Haruspex



Series: Enemy of my Enemy [2]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23665579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blood_Haruspex/pseuds/Blood_Haruspex
Summary: Ever think the Yeerks weren't a very well thought-out galactic empire? Well, so does Isilla-8596. When Isilla finds their new human host has a mind of its own, Isilla thinks there might just be a better way to do things.Full of theoretical spacetime physics, real particle physics, 90's era M-theory, and artistic lisence: computers, galactic politics, galactic lore. Second in a series, so if you're interested in why Ax and Marco are dating or why Tobias is a girl now, read the first entry in the series.
Relationships: OC & OC
Series: Enemy of my Enemy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615939
Comments: 14
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1: Isilla I

My name is Isilla-8596, of the Shorred Kal pool on Halimonia Prime. I never intended to be a soldier, but here I am, banished to a different rock from one I was spawned on, directly under a planetary war-subvisser, taking part in the subjugatory covert invasion of an alien civilization. Back home, I studied computers. My talents are wasted here. 

<Remember in the learning pools, where you were paired up with someone else on an assignment, and only one yeerk actually did the work?> Aslen-4419 prompted as they were encircled by younger Yeerks, including myself, who were receiving human hosts for the first time. Aslen was kind, and they had taken the role of my  _ esmil-- _ an older Yeerk who cares for and sees to the personal development of a younger one--as our parents lyse into children rather than remaining around to raise their young. Aslen had been a friend to my parents, and I was glad to have them. 

<I was definitely the one napping in the Kadrona shallows,> Eliss-9080 responded, surly and full of swagger to mask their excitement and anticipation. The group chuckled. 

<Well, think of your human like another yeerk. You have an assignment, and it will go smoother if both parties work together, even grudgingly,> Aslen explained. <That's how you get the most from your host.>

<Yes, but don't the humans fight you? That takes them out of the equation for cooperation. They're too smart for that,> Somnen-5861. I like Somnen. Us two were poolmates, and we like to think we were spawned beside each other from the same parental body when our parents lysed into our half dozen siblings. We like to think that, but there is no real way to know. 

<Yes, they are smart, but they can be reasoned with,> Aslen corrected, dipping their palps graciously. <You will find that unlike Gedds or Hork-Bajir, the best thing about a human host is their extraordinary sense of self. They may just be your intellectual equal.>

That left our little circle of unwilling soldiers silent. Most of us hadn't controlled a host in some time, and those who had were only provided simple Gedds for training purposes, or if unlucky, Taxxons. It's injust, who gets what kind of host, or why they get them. I was laboring under the auspices of circumventing the issue, but the Council of Thirteen saw fit to enlist me as cannon-fodder on a rock I don't care about rather than allowing me to work on technology that made biological hosts seem a silly idea by comparison. Regardless, the last thing any of us expected was a host we could actually respect. Gedds are not sentient, simple animals with dull senses and clumsy hands. Hork-Bajir are better, but are still not acute in terms of senses, though they provide scantly more resistance than the Gedds; they resist, but their sense of self is so nebulous and their powers of reason so weak that to a Yeerk they are an afterthought, safely ignored. Taxxons are willing hosts, just using us as a suit of armor to insulate them from their primal hunger. By contrast, there is hearsay that Visser 3, the only yeerk with an andalite host, has a difficult time controlling their andalite sometimes. 

<To wit, is it true that humans are difficult to control?> I asked. Aslen wiggled their fins gravely. 

<That's why I'm telling you this. They can either be a screaming, crying nightmare that you can't tune out, or you can form a team with them. They're vulnerable to suggestion, and if they think something is in their interest, they'll do it,> Aslen explained. 

<Are they easy to subdue?> Eliss asked furtively, quickly adding, <If it comes to that.>

Aslen gestured in the negatory. 

<No, you will not have any trouble with control, but their minds are tough to crack. Are any of you getting voluntaries?> Aslen asked hopefully. What were they expecting? We were a bunch of conscripts jumping Pool for the first time. We  _ might _ be given a voluntary someday if we presented the Council with thirteen andalite heads, but it was a dubious prospect even then. Feeling our timorous response, they continued anyway. <If you get one that's angry and yells a lot, just stay quiet and in control. Only allow them to know you can hear them once they've calmed down. And never,  _ ever _ let them know you can't push down their racket.>

Several of us murmured in assent.  _ This _ was what we needed to know. Actual tactics. 

<The other kind you might run into are the kind who are terrified, or have given over to despair,> Aslen added. <With them, find a way to comfort them as soon as possible. They are like wet bankmud; even a yeerk in our natural state can shape it, but it will dry out eventually. Grab something comforting from their mind and imitate it, but not so closely as to be obvious. Taking the tone of one of their parents is a safe bet.>

<How do you know so much about subduing hosts?> Somnen asked suspiciously. 

<Visser 3 is a little harder on his underlings than most, so you might go through a few,> Aslen said forebodingly. We swam a little more neatly for the rest of the day. 

Finally, a noise chimed in my mind and I was instructed to report to the infestation pier. 

<First-timer?> the attending controller thoughtspoke down to me from inside his host, where they were doubtless looking over my data. 

<Yes. Did I get a good one?> I asked. 

<I think so. You nabbed one employed in your field, at least. My hork-bajir can't tell if he's a good looking one or not. At least I  _ think _ this one is a he,> the other yeerk replied unhelpfully. As if I care about how pretty my alien host is. I abhor the sad fact of life that is wresting control from another being, but I am not about to indulge its odd alien reproduction desires. Nor did I relish the prospect of having to subdue them. Neither was I eager to see whatever passed for a computer on this planet. 

My bitterness was pierced when sudden ripples disturbed the pool's surface, and I could feel the struggling host above me. I froze, gripped with anxiety. I wondered whether this one would be one of the ones that screamed, or one of the ones that was scared. Both were equally distasteful. I forced myself to relax, nimbly swam close to the offered host, and my body's infestation reflex took over. 


	2. Chapter 2: Connor I

<Connor?> I heard a voice call gently. I would have paused my thrashing at that, if I had been able to pause. I lost control of my body a few seconds prior, and my struggle against the aliens holding my arms stopped. 

<Connor?> the voice repeated in my head. It was a yeerk. My yeerk, the people from the Sharing had said. The one I definitely had opted out of, but was in my head now. 

I had panicked when the people from the Sharing informed me about aliens and stuff, and I was voluntold I would be a part of the new yeerk system as a host. I tried to bolt, and I fought all the way down to the yeerk pool, but once I saw the big spiky lizard men and the cages by the pier I had given up. The impending fear of being a slave for the rest of my life went to impending dread, and when they shoved me head under the water, it went from impending dread to present dread. Hearing the yeerk talking in my head made it more real. This is my life now. I'm going to be stuck as a slave and there's nothi--

<Connor, calm down!> the yeerk called in my head. For the first time, I was jolted from despair by something strange; the yeerk used the same tone with me that my mom does. Or did, when I was a kid, back before I had to go and get caught up in and alien war and had this thing put in my--

<Don't worry Connor, just take a little bit to adjust. I'll get us home, feel free to talk to me when you're ready,> the yeerk said consolingly, yet firmly. The voice in my head isn't really a voice, it doesn't sound deep or high-pitched, it just is. But still, it radiated a gentle aura, as if its owner wasn't inhibiting all my actions. I'm a man. I don't cry. But I was crying all the way down the stairs to the pool, and inside, I was crying all the way back up. I was crying in my head as I watched the yeerk use my hands to unlock my bike, not stumbling for a moment with the combination, and I cried inside as it rode my bike down the sidewalk back to my apartment through the warm California sun. The only thing that broke my spiral was the wave of second-hand surprise that ran over me when the yeerk saw my apartment. 

<You live here by yourself?> it asked, obviously surprised by now large and nice it was. 

<Yeah,> I thought instinctual, but quickly clenched my mental mouth shut. 

<Let's see… Oh, computers are new to your people, hmm? You wrote a particle physics simulation program in your university years and its accuracy has made you money, I see,> the yeerk said with a hint of approval in its voice. Casually, it explained: <I can read your thoughts and memories if I want.>

Instinctive panic gripped me, but I dropped the notion quickly. What does it matter if an alien knows I whack it? Why do I care that it knows that I secretly have a thing for Kathy Ireland? Who doesn't have a thing for Kathy Ireland? The yeerk stifled a titter.

<We really don't have anything that gets us as worked up as that, but I can tell you about the time I got a fin stuck in the pool filter,> the yeerk offered, aware of my embarrassment. I still didn't want to cooperate with the thing, but if it was willing to be civil, I could at least indulge my curiosity. 

<I am actually kind of curious about aliens,> I grudgingly thought at the Yeerk. I had always hoped we'd meet aliens someday, but enslavement wasn't what I had in mind. 

<There's really only two that you need to worry about,> the yeerk said. <Yeerks and Andalites. Everything that isn't an Andalite is controlled by a Yeerk in its head.>

I expected more detail, but the yeerk decided that was sufficient. I was about to ask what exactly an Andalite, but an image forced itself into my mind. It looked like a Greek centaur, but more gracile and organic. Its face had no mouth, and the top of its head sported two eyes on stalks. Its long tail ended in a sickle blade. 

<This is an Andalite,> the yeerk said, and I detected a hint of annoyance at being subliminally prodded for more. <They are our enemy.>

<Your enemy,> I corrected. <I had nothing to do with this.>

<Neither did I,> came the reply. It felt genuine, but this was an alien slug controlling my brain; maybe it could fake things like that. 

<How come you're fighting them? Why do you need us when you have those big dinosaur guys?> I asked, indignant that I might have to fight something with a damn sword on its body. 

There was a pause, and I felt the yeerk's hesitation. It was becoming clear that I could get at least a general idea of how the yeerk was feeling sometimes. 

<The Hork-bajir are not intelligent. They are about as intelligent as…. Hold on, I'm pulling from your memory… a good equivalent you know about would be dolphins. They're about as smart as dolphins,> the yeerk explained, walking to the bathroom and washing my hands and face for me. I was a little surprised, but glad I could wash after being outside. It always bugged me, feeling dirty, and maybe it bugged the yeerk too. 

<I could ignore your compulsions, you know, but I want you to be comfortable,> it explained, reading my thoughts. I watched through my own eyes as the yeerk flopped down on my bed, and maybe caught a little secondhand mirth when my body bounced for a second. 

<So you want smart hosts, huh? Why?> I asked pointedly. <I assume if you could get here and it doesn't take you thousands of years, you should probably have the technology just to transcend a biological body and digitize yourselves for the sake of immortality, right?> I asked. 

This time, instead of feeling a second emotion, I was struck with a shattering sense of realization as the yeerk probed my considerable encyclopedia of sci-fi memories. 

<You… oh great, merciful Kadrona, your memories…. your theoretical science is beautiful,> the yeerk whispered. 

<What?> I asked, confused at the sudden rush of emotion. 

<Human science fiction, or at least it's predictions. Some are correct, some are not correct, and there are some we're still working on, but… Digitization, robot bodies, cybernetic enhancement… Yeerks and Andalites don't consider those technologies worth pursuing,> the yeerk explained. <I thought I was the only being in the universe to realize there was a better way than what we have.>

<So your society hates nerds too, huh?> I guessed. People thought physicists were cool up until the end of the Cold War, then we were right back to being made fun of. Still, I felt a moment of memory searching, then a blast of secondhand catharsis. 

<It is hard for a yeerk to physically bully another, but, I see we share a common background of ridicule from those too small-minded to consider there is more to life than sitting in another being's head,> the yeerk said bitterly. Then, somewhat comfortingly, <It's okay now.>

<What do you mean? We don't take over people's bodies,> I pointed out. 

<Reality television is about as close to living in another person's head as a human can get,> the yeerk replied. I almost laughed. Almost. At least my yeerk and I had something in common. It occurred to me that I didn't know if it had a name. 

<Isilla will suffice,> it said. After a pause, it continued. <Look, just from looking through some memories, I can tell you are capable of at least considering the advantages of this situation. Would you like… 'Team up?'>

<For what? I'm not going to contribute to an alien invasion if I can help it,> I snapped.

<Nor will I,> Isilla said. That caught me by surprise. 

<Wait, what? You're literally an alien that is controlling my body,> I replied. There was silence for a moment, then I felt nothing, just a vague sense of freedom. Then I felt a slimy weight on my shoulder, and I turned my head to inspect the source. I turned my head. Not the yeerk, me.

"What? Why are you--?" I spat, hastily brushing the slug off my shoulder and into the floor. It landed with a wet smack, and wiggled it's fins helplessly. 

<That really hurt,> Isilla said, sounding pained indeed. 

"Uh… Sorry?" I said, not too worried about the danger from the yeerk, who seemed as harmless as a beached whale when it was in its natural form. 

<Can you draw a bowl of warm water? I have a proposition.>


	3. Chapter 3: Isilla II

My host's name is Connor. I dove into his memories, and found Aslen's advice to be true. This  _ was _ someone who I could see as an intellectual equal. More importantly, he was unlike other humans. Certainly, his education in the sciences was truly pathetic compared to modern galactic knowledge, but his thoughts skewed in the correct direction. If I laid out all the scientific knowledge in the gap between human science and what I knew, I would do little but confirm what he already suspected. Human scientists must be excellent at extrapolating correct physics and possible technologies out of what little data they were able to obtain, but still, few humans would be able to take advantage of the knowledge I had. I thanked the great Kadrona that I had been blessed with a host who could understand what I hoped to achieve, and more importantly, one I could respect enough to reason with. 

Connor returned with a bowl of warm water, and gently placed me inside, much gentler than he had been when he knocked me to the ground. That kind of fall wasn't something Yeerk biology had evolved to survive, so I was lucky that Earth had low gravity compared to our homeworld. Once inside the water, I felt much more comfortable. 

"Why did you leave my head?" Connor asked. 

<I am placing myself at your mercy,> I told him. He looked confused, so I elaborated. <I did so so you will understand my intentions are genuine. By leaving my host unrestrained, I have just committed treason, and were any other Yeerks to find out, I would be tossed alive into a fusion reactor.>

"Why would you abandon a better bargaining position? That's just stupid," Connor commented. 

<The truth is, I hate the idea of controlling a sentient being. I want you to know I'm on your side here,> I said, but Connor was stubborn, and not making it easy for me. 

"I could boil you alive right now and you couldn't do anything about it," he said darkly. Fear washed over me, but I ignored it and continued with my proposal. 

<Every Yeerk is given a short period of approximately two human months to get used to their host, get better at integrating into human society, and enjoy the sensations of having their host's senses before their service begins,> I explained. <Until that time period expires, I won't be expected to contribute to the war effort. In that time I want us to work together to develop a better solution than infestation.>

"What happens if I say no?" he pressed. 

<I would have to play the part, controlling your actions, and I know neither of us want that,> I confided. There was no point lying to him. He would have figured it out soon anyway. <I wouldn't want to, but the alternative is being re-infested with a different Yeerk, one much more likely to be openly hostile. We can't run, either, since our technology can scan huge areas for DNA and protein signatures, and both of ours are in the Empire's database, now. Besides, Yeerks are radiotrophic, and the only source at the wavelength we need is in the pool you saw. I have to go back there every three days to survive, so while I wish we could simply escape, it would doom us both. I truly do want what's best for both of us.>

"God, you really  _ do _ sound like my mother," Connor relented. "Can't we just go to the cops or something?" 

<No. We have infiltrated the police quite thoroughly,> I replied. 

"Crap," he sighed. "Alright,  _ fine _ , what do you have in mind?" 

<As your own species has at least a cursory understanding of computer science, I propose we work on neural interface technology. Yeerks already have adequate mechanical technology to construct automata, but our developments into actually being able to control themselves is considered too costly and bothersome to develop, and with too much risk. Creating digital consciousness is a galaxy-wide taboo, and I know you know why,> I finished. When I probed his memories, I had seen flashes of human science fiction, and the humans had the same natural fear of a superior intelligence that Yeerks and Andalites have. I was sure Connor and I knew better than that, though. 

"So you want us to develop a way for Yeerks to control robots?" Connor asked, incredulous. "This isn't a fucking movie, dude."

<Might I remind you that you are talking to a space alien?> I replied smugly, doing a lap around the bowl to punctuate my point. He was silent for a moment, definitely thinking. He sat down onto his couch and brought a bent finger to his lips. <Yes, we should develop the means for Yeerks to control automata, but shroud the technology as a human invention, at which time we can expose the invasion. There is no way the small Yeerk force here can overpower your military, even with our starships. The Empire will be forced to negotiate, and will likely be pleased with the alternative to host upkeep.>

"So you'll all be in robots, but what does that mean for Earth? Won't we still be part of your grand galactic empire, and weaker by comparison? Can't you just invade us right after?" 

<Ah, that's where Humanity's particulars come in handy,> I said gleefully. When I had probed his memories, I learned a lot about his planet, and why the empire wanted Earth: industry. <You humans are blessed with not only huge amounts of resources in your system, but also the numbers, manpower, and low-gravity to make manufacturing nearly  _ anything _ possible.>

"Wait, wouldn't it just be better to build things in orbit? You guys must build your spaceships in orbit, right?" Connor countered. There was my host again, proving my suspicions and hopes about his intellect to be true at every turn. Humans weren't as primitive as their technology suggested. 

<Astute conjecture, but the systems we control are poor in metals, already partially or fully mined out by the Elder Species,> I explained. <But your-->

"Wait a sec, Elder Species?" he interrupted as he popped up from the couch, clearly fascinated.

<Yes, Elder Species is the term used to refer to Pemalites, Nostnavy, Ron, Mashtimee, Capasins, and Arn. Between one hundred fifty million and ten million of your years ago, each of those civilizations achieved a level of technology that surpasses modern species, and were spread across the known universe as a result,> I explained. It was novel to me that such an intelligent being had no knowledge of galactic history, one of the very first things a yeerk is taught in the learning pool. <They were all wiped out by bioweapons created by the unspeakably ancient machine intelligence known as Crayak.>

Connor brought a hand to his forehead, leaning against a wall. It must have scared him, knowing how insignificant even the elder species had been. Veritable star gods, yet wiped from reality. It scared us too, but it was that fear, the knowledge all species will compete and fight for resources and star systems, that drove us to struggle against the Andalites. It is the immutable nature of life to fight for survival. 

"So what, when we get advanced enough, this Crayak guy will wipe us out, too?" he asked shakily. 

<Probably not. Most believe Crayak is just a legend, but scholarly opinion is that it goes dormant to preserve resources, only re-awakening every few hundred million of your years to search for developing species and eliminate them. When the physics of the universe are different, towards the end of this reality-->

"Energy consumption will be lesser, meaning it can get more out of the resources its been protecting," Connor mused. "At least if that's how physics works, that's what I would do."

<That is indeed how physics works.>

"So then what's the deal? Won't he be back at some point?" Connor reasoned. 

<Likely, though not likely for several million years at least. The last purge was a mere one hundred thousand of your years ago, and records from the civilizations Crayak eliminated suggest that the purges only take place every twenty million of your years. So we shall have plenty of time to prepare,> I explained. 

"This is so fucked up," Connor murmured. 

<Yes,> I agreed. <May I continue with my point now?> Connor nodded weakly, and I got to the crux of my argument. <Like I said, most of the systems near our homeworld are poor in the elements required for technology, and our orbital construction isn't much better than yours at present. Our ships are mostly built from captured andalite shipyards, and it took a very long time to re-tool them to build the ships we wanted. Our fighters and transports are modified patterns of Andalite shuttles and freighters. Your species could out-produce us easily, given your iron-rich inner planets and asteroid belt. Your system, never having been developed or exploited by the Elder Species, is something known as  _ Untouched. _ >

"If the solar system is so special, wouldn't it make more sense for you guys to just keep invading then?" he queried, and I dipped my palps in the negatory, even though he didn't understand what that meant. 

<No,> I said. <I'm more than certain we could negotiate a truce under the auspices of Earth being a neutral manufacturing world, and your system belonging solely to your species, which is quite an anomaly for a developing civilization. There hasn't been a species to develop in an Untouched system for millions of years.>

"But why would that stop them? Why would your empire allow that, if they can just have us for free?" he reasoned. 

<Ah, that is where the third parties comes into play,> I revealed.

"So you're telling me there are currently even  _ more _ species with spaceflight?" he balked, exasperated. 

<Yes, many. The Anati have recently signed a treaty with the Yeerk empire after Visser One--the one who commands the bulk of our fleet--bungled the planetary invasion. One of the articles of said treaty was that the treaty would be nullified if an Untouched system--or derelict fleet or debris field from Elder times--was claimed solely by the Yeerks. I wouldn't call Untouched systems  _ sacrosanct _ , exactly, but there is a general understanding that if the Elder Species left the system pristine, they probably had a good reason, and a pan-galactic council apportions access to these systems for extensive study and only  _ eventual _ resource exploitation. You are in the unique position of being one of the only civilizations in the galaxy who other empires would join in to defend in your relatively-defenseless state, regardless of treaties. However, if either the Anati, Ketrans, Desbadeen, and Hawjabran--our neighbors on the other side of the empire from the Andalites--found out we were attempting to steal an Untouched system out from under them  _ and _ enslaving a native species from such a system, they would go beyond the typical obligation of defending the system in question and instead seek to destroy the Yeerk Empire entirely,> I explained gravely.

"So why aren't we focused on showing them the invasion is taking place? Send them photos of the Yeerk pool or something?" Connor reckoned. 

<Their war preparations would take too long, and Earth would be fully subdued by the time we saw combat with any of them. Besides, your system and planet would become a wartorn hellscape under joint occupation of some particularly brutal empires. It will be safer, and better for you, if Earth can provide war materialé to the great powers of the galaxy. If the Kelbrids found out Visser 3 was invading an Untouched system, they would kill every Yeerk alive. As much as I loathe our way of life, I do not want to see my people suffer. Convincing the Empire to abandon the invasion in favor of securing a trade deal is a much quicker and safer bet for both parties,> I finished.

Connor was quiet for a moment, sliding down the wall into a sitting position and covering his mouth, taking it all in. I could tell he was overwhelmed. Any member of a species that had never been contacted, even an intelligent individual from an early Star Age civilization, would be in shock by learning about not only the existence of other life, but the entire state of Galactic affairs, all in the space of a few hours. Maybe it was  _ because _ he was intelligent he was awestruck; he could appreciate the implications of some of the things I had told him. He pulled his hand away from his mouth, sighing, and in that moment I knew he had been won over. 

"I guess the threat of war is as good as real war," he mused, chuckling uneasily. "Where are we even going to get the materials to make neural interfaces?" he asked, and in that moment I knew I had won. I leapt from the water, only an inch or two, but I couldn't sit still. My fins quivered with excitement, and I felt, for the first time, like this might actually work. Initially I had assumed it would be a gamble, an elaborate method of suicide, but Connor was beginning to see that this  _ was _ what was best for both of us. 

<Wherever computer parts are sold,> I replied. 

"I mean, we can always go to RadioShack," he offered. "You're telling me we can save the planet from parts acquired at freakin'  _ RadioShack? _ What, is Circuit City going to bring galactic peace?" he laughed, a manic bark in his voice. "Is it really true that in fact, not even space aliens can beat the Wiz?" 

<As long as they sell the requisite materials for us to modify, it will be fine,> I said in a strained tone, waiting for him to stop laughing at what I assume was a humorous irony for him. It took longer than I expected, and gave in to my desire to interrupt. <We must begin immediately, though, as we haven't a second to lose,> I stressed. Now came the part where I had to ask something difficult from him, something I don't know if he was ready for. <I will have to come with you. May I borrow your senses?>

"You mean get back in my head?" Connor spat, jerking upright from his slouched position. "No way!" 

<Only as a passenger, a guest. All your actions will be completely under your control,> I promised. <Unless you can explain every part of your primitive computers in a way I can understand, and you can absorb hundreds of years of hardware and software development in a few hours, yes, I will need to get back in your head. I'm sorry.>

"Well, you can just take back control again at any time, then, couldn't you?" he angrily pointed out. I understood his frustration, truly. Being robbed of your volition to serve something you had no control over, being utterly without agency… It was thence from whence my disdain for the Yeerk way of life sprang. 

<Another Yeerk could, maybe. I have placed myself at your mercy, Connor. I will leave your head the moment we return from gathering supplies. If we are to do this together, we have to have mutual trust.  _ Please,> _ I besought him. 

"You have to see where I'm coming from here," he said slowly. I could tell he was thinking it over, but he was a very cautious being. I decided to sweeten the deal. 

<If you acquiesce, I will explain to you how faster-than-light travel works on the trip over,> I promised tantalizingly. His reaction was instant. 

"Done," he blurted. "We're going to the mall."

I felt myself being held back up to his ear, and once I was safely inside his skull, I retreated to a passenger role. Connor walked out his front door, and as he locked it, accusingly thought <Well? Spill!> at me.

I laughed. What a ravenously curious being! With someone like him, my plan might just work. <Well, Connor, let me tell you about Z-space….>


	4. Chapter 4: Connor II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor is a nerd, and happened to be a particle physics student when he wrote his program and made his money, hence him actually understanding what Isilla's trying to tell him when explaining Z-space.
> 
> If it all seems like arcane mumbo-jumbo, maybe these can help:
> 
> https://youtu.be/k6TWO-ESC6A
> 
> https://youtu.be/iTTa9YcTe1k
> 
> https://youtu.be/klpDHn8viX8 (9:55)  
> The boson field Isilla is talking about is a Bose-Einstein condensate comprised of Higgs bosons.

I felt like Albert Hofmann. 

I was riding my bike to the mall, and having my mind blown a few times a minute, but not from drugs. The Yeerk, Isilla, was doubling,  _ tripling _ my knowledge on topics I've always been super interested in. I don't like admitting it in most company, but I'm a nerd. Yeah, yeah, I know, it's obvious, who else but nerds builds software, but I'm the kind of nerd that had the whole  _ Cosmos _ tape set as a kid. I actually think space is fascinating. I pay for a freakin subscription to a particle physics journal, just because it's  _ cool.  _ I was wearing a freaking  _ backpack _ , as an adult. And here Isilla was, telling me things that built upon concepts that I had only known as bleeding-edge fringe theories until he showed up. 

<So Z-space is simply an energy-neutral space between the vibrating Dirichlet membranes of superstring theory?> I asked. I felt him feeling around in my memories, a vague awareness of what was being viewed. 

<Ah,> he noted with pleasure. <Nearly. There is no  _ space _ there, since Z-space is specifically a void, absolute vacuum outside of spacetime, between dimensions. It's not a place you can  _ go _ , since we're all made of matter, which is just the folded dimensions of denser areas of spacetime curving back in on itself to turn the energy of the branes into quarks, leptons, and fermions, which as you well know, form into stable orbits known as hadrons like protons and neutrons. The strings are oscillations of one-dimensional space entering two dimensional space, and so on. Since we exist as  _ motions  _ of the branes interacting with their own folded dimensions, we cannot enter a space between them, but we  _ can _ warp spacetime  _ into _ it, essentially warping the branes to create a bubble of stabilized realspace in the area between dimensions. Think of it like having sheets of fabric a few inches from each other, moving back and forth, and there are toothpicks between between them as they oscillate. The toothpicks poke into the fabric, but in reality that just forms matter, and the motion of the fabric moving gives energy form, and the resultant particles  _ spin _ ,> he explained. See? Shit like that. Blowing my mind. It was like getting to peek into the future. Like being able to watch the next 10 years worth of Star Trek. 

<Mmkay, that's pretty straightforward so far,> I nodded excitedly, thinking back to a NOVA documentary I watched on the topic. <And gravity is a deformation in that fabric caused by how much more energy it takes to oscillate the fabric if you have a bunch of toothpicks stuck close together. The more mass, the more toothpicks, the more extreme the warpage, the stronger the effect.>

<Precisely! Very good,> Isilla replied happily, and I couldn't help but feel a little pleased with myself, but I couldn't be certain it wasn't secondhand pride from the Yeerk, who seemed to be making no effort to conceal his emotions from me. <It's not the best analogy, since stronger gravity fields exist thanks to the resonant wave function of gravitons, not to mention the branes aren't flat; they're entire universes of N+1 dimensions up to eleven, but you already know that. Still, to continue the analogy, Z-space is the space between the fabrics, and we can push the sheets together until they're touching in order to compress reality. If you create a spacetime bubble using a boson plasma field-->

<A what?> I asked, barely noticing the cracks in the sidewalk as I pedaled past them. 

<Oh, I see, you don't have anything in your memories about that… There's a specific boson that gives particles their mass. It's the particle that interacts most heavily with the dimensional branes, and it conveniently is the particle we can interact with most easily _precisely_ _because_ it has imparts mass. As such, creating a--your species calls it--a Bose-Einstein condensate by superchilling these particles that give all the other ones mass, it essentially stabilizes a field of strings around you, meaning the branes will remain compressed, almost like putting magnets on the top and bottom sheet so that the fabrics remain touching,> he said. I was lapping this up as he displayed the image in my mind, and he was actually a very good teacher. The fact that he could access my memories so fluidly and know what I knew implicitly still impressed me, and it was a wonder a species with this ability had never bothered with neural interface tech before this. 

<So wait a second, the lack of string vibration keeps the branes stuck together? That makes sense, but how does that relate to regular spacetime and moving matter through it at speeds faster than light?> I pondered. 

<Well, you understand relativity, so think of it like this: Compressing and then stabilizing spacetime in a field separate from the rest means that those strings aren't interacting with a spacetime that shares a scale with your bubble. You can move your bubble quite quickly because you aren't forcing your matter  _ through _ spacetime, you're moving the  _ spacetime _ through an interstitial void rather than focusing on the matter. The speed of light is just the quickest you can influence the third dimension and have the other dimensions respond to that change. You can only pull a toothpick across the fabric so quickly, but if you pulled them out and wove them into a sphere, a wicker hackey-sack, I suppose, it would be far easier to through a non-medium because the strings are connected to a far more localized absolute position held stable by the ground-state strings, but maintain their structure relative to each other thanks to--found it, you nearly forgot-- _ Weyl scale invariance _ . From there, it's trivial to travel through Z-space. All you have to do is push the condensate around, which, since it's a plasma of tiny particles, is quite easy,> Isilla explained, illustrating the concept in my mind. It was simple, elegant, and it made  _ sense.  _ I wondered how long it would take for humanity to figure it out had aliens with the technology not arrived and explained it to us. 

<Likely within one hundred of your years. If a non-scientist like yourself with only a dilettante level of technical understanding knows this much, your scientists must understand these principles quite well already,> Isilla answered. 

<How do you directly interact with the bosons though? You can't just beam hadrons at it, since they'll just absorb them, right?> I asked, pulling into the mall complex. <What, do you just shoot weakly-interacting leptons at it?>

<Connor, I fear you chose the wrong line of work when you chose to work with computers,> Isilla purred. <You are correct, you can push the bosons with Tau leptons, and pull towards you with anti-leptons, which is how the field is stabilized in the first place. Therefore, you can convert fusion energy of hadrons directly into the leptons that move you along. Since you are confined by these particles, in Z-space your  _ minimum _ speed is that of light, c, in a vacuum. As the field is static relative to you, by putting in large amounts of energy you and your spacetime locality can travel up c times c. Essentially, you are tapping into the mass-energy of the leptons, converting converting them from hadrons via fusion and then converting their mass directly to velocity through interaction with the boson plasma.>

<So then, relative velocity would be represented by…> I choked, surprised the answer would have been in front of us the whole time. 

<Yes,> Isilla confirmed. <You already have the means to calculate energy as the velocity of your absolute position relative to the branes. It's simply a fraction of the square of light speed does in fact equal the mass of the leptons put in. You are more familiar with it as E=mc^2, but yes, you have known since a child that m = E(v)/c^2. We just express mass as a number of leptons since they have a static mass, and we express E(v)/c^2 as a percentage of  _ Z _ , the universal maximum speed. A good Z-space drive will get you going 0.05Z, or 15,000 times the speed of light.>

It… It was just so  _ simple _ . These were all concepts we had known since Einstein, simply lacked the fusion power--or bravery to utilize fission in space--to achieve it. Isilla  _ was _ right, we would have figured this out soon anyway. I ran a quick calculation in my head, that would put the time from one side of the observable universe to the other at about 6000 years, and that was just a tiny slice of the whole universe. It only took six and a half years to cross our entire galaxy, and a hundred and sixty years to Andromeda. Two and a half hours to the nearest system, Proxima Centauri. All we had to do was get some neutrons really really cold and then shoot some electrons at it through a wall.  _ Simple.  _ I rolled to a stop in front of the racks, feeling very cosmically insignificant. I locked my bike through the frame and the wheels, and Isilla broke my humbled silence. 

<So, would you like to explain anything to  _ me?  _ I can see many things you do from your memories, and certain behaviors humans have, but I don't understand the 'why,'> he asked. I straightened up and looked towards the mall entrance. RadioShack was the first store in and to the left, but I could tell Isilla wanted me to look at some people who were walking in. 

<Are you asking that because you don't want me to feel bad about the one-way flow of information?> I asked skeptically. 

<Of course not. I've never had senses like yours, Connor. It's not that you take them for granted, but it's easy for me to get lost in simply enjoying the feeling of photon-based sight, the exquisite awareness of your skin, mouth, hair, and so on. But what fascinates me more than that are the behaviors of your species,> he replied. He let me into his feelings, and I could feel his burning curiosity when I looked at the throngs of people moving in and out of the mall. I got a mental image of moving closer and inspecting. I chuckled softly. 

<What do you want to know, dude? I can't just go up to them and start looking at them. They'll think I'm weird,> I said. 

<Why would they think that?> Isilla asked. 

<Because… Because it just  _ is.  _ I guess it's because that would imply I was either specifically interested in them as an individual, which they've given me no reason to be, or that I hadn't seen other people before. You know,  _ like an alien, _ > I stressed. 

<I see…> Isilla murmured. <I understand your species to be extremely social, and it  _ does _ make sense that there would be rules attached to that.>

<Too many,> I commiserated. <We can people-watch for a few minutes if you want. You've definitely earned it.>

<Thank you, Connor. I'm pleased we can satisfy each other's curiosity, especially since I just broke the Law of Seerow's kindness,> he replied happily. 

<What's that?> I asked, leaning back on the seat of my bike. 

<A pan-galactic law set forth after an individual of an advanced species shared their technology with another, less advanced species, and the second species became a problem for the first,> Isilla explained. 

<That sucks. So what, you'll go to space jail?> I asked, kinda bummed the galaxy seemed dickish about stuff like that. 

<Not really. The only empire not to observe that law is the Yeerk Empire, thanks to the fact that if one of our scientists or technicians infests someone, it's hard for the host not to figure out what's going on. It's an easily avoided problem, as once a being becomes a host, they will inevitably be a host until their death,> he revealed. <It should be noted that the individual from the advanced species was Prince Seerow, an Andalite, and the only Andalite to be revered in Yeerkish culture.>

That was a shock. Yeerks were given technology by the species they were fighting against; I could see how that would set everyone on edge about uplifting. It was a shame. Isilla continued as we watched a blonde girl cross the parking lot to an island with some grass and a tree. 

<I willingly gave you the principles behind the technology, and have no intention to ever keep you as a prisoner as my host, so I did break that law. But it's a stupid law, and by the end of the day you will know so,  _ so _ much more,> he concluded, and I could feel a vague sense of satisfaction coming from him. That kind of 'I'm an alright guy' feeling you get when you do a good deed, like he had done the right thing. 

We watched the girl approach the island, and a tan kid a few years younger than me went up and began to talk to her. He knelt down to feel something on the ground--I couldn't make out what, exactly--and the girl followed suit. A few moments later, she popped up and screamed, running into the mall screaming about how she was 'infected.' Intriguing. 

<That is considered anomalous behavior, I sense,> Isilla posited as I made my way over to the island to see what the issue was. 

<Yeah, you're in the same boat as me, buddy. I have no idea what the hell  _ that _ was all about,> I reassured him, walking up to see the object they had both touched was a dead bird. A dead bird of prey, specifically, though I couldn't tell what kind. That was kind of neat; you see dead pigeons and sparrows and stuff occasionally but I've never seen a dead falcon. I decided we should investigate. 

"Hey dude, what's with the bird?" I asked the tan kid. 

"Ah, this bird is dead," he replied, sipping an Orange Julius. "But not to worry, for I have called Animal Control. Oll."

<I think this guy might be special needs, he talks kind of weird. Maybe he's just foreign, who knows. Not a regular guy though,> I explained, since there was something off about how he stood and spoke. 

"What's with the chick, then?" I asked. "She said she was, like, infected, or something?" 

"Ah, of course. She was mistaken, however, as I have it on good authority that this hawk is very clean," he said, stifling a smile. 

"Mmkay," I said, shrugging. I took one last look at the bird and started walking towards the mall entrance. 

<Sorry dude, I didn't want to seem weird, and besides, that guy is probably an edge-case for human behavior anyway,> I explained. <I'll let you use my mouth to talk to one of the people who work in Radioshack, if you want.>

<That would be nice. Will they know more about computer hardware than you?> he asked. I actually laughed out loud. <That's a no, then,> he inferred wryly. 

We entered the building and went past the RadioShack; we would be hitting it on the way out, but first I wanted to try my friend's place. Tommy Hollywood's was the best place within biking distance, and was better even than Fry's. He rented a small stall in the mall and did PC servicing, refurbishment, builds; pretty much anything that had to do with hardware. He was a longtime friend of mine, and I'd done a bunch of work with him, mostly hack-and-slashing software open to develop homebrew variants. He was boisterous and fun to be around, just an all-around good guy. As we rounded the corner into the fluorescent-lit store, he called out to us from behind the counter. 

"Welcome to Tommy Hollywood's, be with ya in a sec," he called, focusing on the TV he kept back there, playing some video game or another. Tommy's a heavy black dude, and everyone in the mall knows he's always up to let passersby take a shot at beating him in any game. Nobody ever could. Not even little kids; he'll crush them into the dust until they went home and got good. 

<Don't worry dude, this is Tommy, he knows way more than I do about hardware. If you wanna ask questions about Human tech, he's your guy,> I assured Isilla. I walked down the aisles, glancing over chips and cards and cables all arranged in a chaotic mess on a series of plastic shelving. 

"Hey Tommy," I called, striding over, and Tommy paused his game immediately, breaking out into a smile. 

"Connor! Bro, I thought you was dead or something, where you been?" he asked, standing up and walking around the counter. 

"Ah, well, you know, I've been trying to get outside more, so I was hanging out with a kinda charity community group," I told him. It was the truth. I hadn't seen him in a while since I'd been busy with--

"The Sharing? You run wit them? No way cuz, me too!" he said, his face not showing as much mirth, now. I felt an instinctive panic grip me, fearing he was going to get infested, or worse, already was. Isilla helpfully stepped in.

<Ask him if he's gone to the members-only pool yet,> Isilla suggested. <That's the code they told us to check if people are controllers.>

<Really? That's a little on the nose,> I groaned internally. 

"Been to the member's only pool yet?" I asked. His demeanor changed a little, being a little more formal, and my heart sunk. 

<Fuck,> I spat. 

<I'm sorry Connor, but he is a controller, I have to take over to--> Isilla said, but I already tacitly relinquished my agency.

<Go ahead. I don't want to talk to whoever the fuck  _ that  _ is,> I said in disgust, painfully aware of the conversation, not able to escape hearing the alien who made my friend into his slave. 

"I must admit, I'm a little disappointed," Tommy's Yeerk said. "I rather liked your host. He was smart, for a human. It's a shame. What is your name?"

"Isilla-8596 from Shorred-Kal on Halimonia," Isilla said through my mouth. "And you?" 

Tommy's face softened slightly, gradually breaking into a smile, I'm guessing when the Yeerk realized Isilla wasn't an officer or whatever. 

"Hey Isilla, it's me, Aslen," the Yeerk replied with a small smile. 

<What luck! They are my  _ esmil _ , my mentor,> Isilla said, sounding a little too happy for my liking. 

< _ Oh hooray, _ > I deadpanned. 

<I'm truly sorry for your friend, Connor. Just know he is controlled by someone kind, and it could be worse,> he said consolingly. I didn't want to hear it, but it wasn't his fault, so I kept my mental trap shut. 

"How long have you had your host?" Isilla asked. 

"Oh, this one? Ten months or so," he said, as if discussing a car or pair of shoes. I had been interacting with this thing for _ ten fucking months _ . It had walked, talked, even made hot wings just like Tommy. And now that he was talking to another Yeerk, it was like everything that made him 'Tommy' was gone, like taking the dust off a cheeto. I felt  _ violated _ . I had talked with and hung out with this  _ alien _ for the best part of a year without knowing. "You just got yours this morning, right?" 

"Yeah," Isilla confirmed. 

"That's too bad. I hope he makes it easy on himself. So, we just jumped pool like, what, three hours ago? You haven't gotten a look at Human computers yet, then, right?" Aslen surmised. 

"Well, just what I can find in his memories. They seem pretty simple, but he isn't an--uh-- _ hardware guy,"  _ Isilla replied, fishing around for the term I would have used. 

"My host is one such 'hardware guy.' Come on, I'll take you in the back, their processors are quaint little things," Aslen beckoned, and Isilla followed him into the back room where the usual tables full of drop-off computers were. 

"I'm looking to build something capable of handling a large data feed, and interpreting that data quickly. Do they have anything capable of that?" Isilla asked. 

"Hmm, depends on how big the data is. How big do you need?" Aslen asked offhandedly, poking through bins of older processor chips.

"Well, just to be safe, I'd say about 100  _ karra _ is my minimum," Isilla said offhandedly. 

<That's around 500 of your gigaflops,> Isilla explained, and if I had control of my body, I would have thrown up in my mouth a little. That was  _ supercomputer _ level; there was no way we would ever get that kind of performance out of consumer-grade hardware. 

"Great Kadrona, what are you doing? I thought you'd be building one of their primitive terminals as a toy, but that's some serious power, even for  _ our _ processors," Aslen balked. Isilla shrugged and lied through my teeth. 

"I saw in his memories that they have a primitive internet, so I wanted to index all of it and perform some transformative calculations to derive patterns and order from their behavior. I want to see if they are predictable. Imagine the reward when I present such a project to the Visser after my acclimation period," Isilla lied wryly, a smirk playing at my lips, either from feigned pleasure or  _ real _ pleasure at deceiving another Yeerk. Aslen blew air from Tommy's lips, rubbing the back of his head. 

"You never  _ were _ one to waste time, were you, little one?" Aslen mused. He looked over the bins of secondhand processors and sighed. "These are all good for about one half of one tenth of a _ karra _ each, you'd need at least  _ two thousand _ of these to get the kind of power you're talking about. You would be better off looking through the Pool's waste pile for a couple older terminals. You could eke those numbers out of four or five of those."

Isilla shook my head. <We have to make it appear like a human invention. We will just have to make do with less,> he said resolutely. <Fewer nodes.>

"Yeah but then where's the  _ charm?  _ I want to play with Human tech at least a  _ little _ ," he said. Aslen looked skeptical. 

"Little one, Visser 3 does not  _ care _ about charm," he said. "If it is not perfect, you will get your host--or worse,  _ yourself _ \--killed. I can't abide by such a waste."

"Well, maybe I won't show it to the Visser with the current iteration, but I still do want to cultivate the technology. I'll take your stock of the newest generation of processors," Isilla concluded. Aslen looked relieved, and happily helped Isilla stuff my backpack full of new Pentium III's, new Voodoo Rush and Glaze3D graphics reference boards, and promised to shop as many motherboards he could to my apartment. 

"That's about ten karra, it should be plenty, certainly better than anything a human will have. I hope your project goes well," Aslen said as we got ready to leave.

"Thank you, my esmil. By the way… Would it be out of line to say that my host requests that you treat yours kindly?" Isilla said, giving me the mental equivalent of a wink. 

"Of course not! Take good care of yours as well, alright? He and I have interacted a lot, and it's a shame he was born human. With his skills he would have gone far in a  _ real _ civilization," Aslen replied. 

<That was high praise for a yeerk to say about a host species, I'll have you know. They think highly of you,> Isilla said to me. 

"Has your host been troublesome?" Aslen asked. 

"Oh yes," Isilla said, and I got a mental image of when I knocked him on the floor. I was coming to like Isilla as a person, but I wasn't going to apologize again. "He was pleased when I explained Z-space in order to console him." Aslen winced at the mention of breaking Seerow's kindness, but said nothing. 

"That's… Truly unfortunate, little one," Aslen said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Truly, good luck."

"Thank you," Isilla said warmly, and turned to leave, gently handing my body back to me. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help, little one. I'm so sorry," Aslen called as I walked away, and Isilla didn't take control back. 

"Don't worry about it," I called back with a dismissive wave. 

<I'm sorry about your--> Isilla murmured in the back of my mind as I left.

<I don't want to hear it,> I shot back, and he was silent. Seeing Tommy like that destroyed me, but what was worse was that it opened my eyes to the scale of the invasion. Who else were controllers? My landlord? My bitchy ex? My parents?! I found a bench near the central fountain, bowed my head, rest my eyes in my palms, and broke down. I guess today was a day for tears. I wasn't sobbing or anything, but it felt like I'd already lost the invasion. He had been so normal, I hadn't seen any change, but he'd been fighting an unwinnable internal battle for months. 

<That is what we are working on undoing. Preventing this from happening,> Isilla said softly after some time had passed. I wasn't sure if it had been five minutes or fifteen. I didn't reply. That could have been me, if I wasn't somehow assigned the one Yeerk who was as big of a nerd as I was. Isilla seemed like an okay person, but at any time he could choose to enslave me for life and there was nothing I could do about it. A sword of damocles hanging over my every action. As close as there could be to someone with the power of a god. 

<Connor, I need you to understand something,> he said forcefully. <I will  _ never _ do such a thing. Ever. I would rather be thrown into a fusion reactor, and I'm taking that chance by working with you. I will  _ not _ betray you.>

I felt him open his feelings to me, and felt that everything he said was genuine. I felt his tremendous sorrow at having been born into a way of life that meant the enslavement of others. He was utterly devoted to ending the system, and he felt guilt and shame every time he used my body to move or speak. He wasn't proud of what he was. 

"You don't control what you are," I croaked aloud. 

<I know. But we are going to change how things work. You should realize, you will be freeing not only humans, but every other species in the Empire. Once mechanical hosts become available, why would we bother supporting all the biological peculiarities of Hork-Bajir or Taxxons? It would be much less expensive to send them back to their home planets; no more food to ship between the stars, no more disease, no more hosts dying of old age,> he said. I felt, and it was true. We could be the harbingers of the greatest quality of life change in galactic history, freeing  _ trillions _ from a lifetime of torture and slavery, and make Humanity a galactic power. 

<That's the spirit,> Isilla said approvingly, a note of fondness in his voice. 

<Thanks, I needed that,> I replied, straightening up and wiping furiously at my eyes and nose with the sleeve. 

<It may be asking a lot, but someday, I hope we can call each other friends,> he said hopefully. 

I was searching for a reply when we were interrupted by a sharp growl from my stomach, and I suddenly realized I hadn't eaten at all that day, and it was nearly four o'clock. I'd been too busy with the Sharing all morning, and later, you know, being told about aliens and stuff. I only just realized I was starving. 

<Oh, is this what it feels like to need to eat? It feels nothing like when we need Kadrona,> Isilla commented, clearly interested in the sensation. <You feel  _ empty.> _

<Yeah well, I am,> I chuckled, rising from the bench and starting towards the food court. 

<I've been told the sensation of taste is one of the best things about having a--I mean,  _ being _ human,> he said excitedly, catching himself. 

<Oh, yeah, it's probably going to be pretty weird for you,> I said, realizing how strange food was when you really thought about it. Different parts of plants and animals combined together in ways that should be disgusting, but was delicious. 

<I'm excited to experience it,> he replied. I found my favorite food court place, a pretty decent Chinese-Japanese place--you know the kind, it's a food court--with really good lemon pepper shrimp lo mein. I put in an order while Isilla raved to me about how pleasant the sensation of smell was. When I got the food and sat down, Isilla didn't think it looked very appealing. 

<Is that considered good? The smell is lovely, but those tubular bits… They look like Taxxon innards,> he said, thankfully not sending me any images of alien guts. 

<Yeah man, this is good. Try it,> I said, taking a bite of the noodles. Isilla seized for a moment, almost as if he had the wind knocked out of him, and then I felt a powerful sensation of secondhand bliss. 

<More,> was all he could manage, and I had no complaints. I needed the brain fuel, since we would start work that night. It was fun, eating and feeling him having some kind of religious experience. Each new vegetable I speared with the plastic fork brought him a fundamental joy. It was like watching a toddler eat their first piece of chocolate, or watching a puppy frolic in snow for the first time. Isilla practically passed out from overstimulation when I took the first sip of soda. 

<So, uh, is it always going to be that intense?> he asked after I had finished and thrown away the plastic.

<Uh, maybe? I don't know. Not everything is as strongly flavored as that, but you'll get used to it. I hope,> I said. It was entertaining, but if every meal was going to be like this, it would get uncomfortable pretty quickly. 

<Yes, I am told that the initial experience decreases in intensity with increased familiarity,> he confirmed. <Asl-- _ a friend _ has told me as much.>

I was relieved. Shifting gears, I tapped my backpack, currently on the ground, with a foot. 

<What exactly are we building?> I asked, curious as to what could possible use so much hardware. <Supercomputer?>

<Well, for your species, yes,> he chuckled. <We just need something to process numerous feeds in real time, as the data we will need for adequate control will be enormous. Decentralizing the processor load is the only way to do that with your current level of technology.>

<Well this sounds like it'll be fun!> I said happily, surprised at how excited I was getting. 

<It will be very tedious…> Isilla warned. 

<Eh, what could go wrong?> I asked. 

If only I knew who we would be meeting in less than an hour's time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also yes that was a cameo from Ax and Toby.


	5. Chapter 5: Isilla III

After the absolutely enlightening experience that was "mall food court Chinese food calm down dude," Connor took us to our last stop, which was near the entrance we had come in through. However, we never made it to RadioShack. Connor was grabbed tightly by both arms by two large Humans. 

"What the hell, dudes? What's your malfunction?!" Connor hissed, struggling to break free. He could not. 

The men said nothing, and I could see in their eyes that they were controllers. I was gripped with panic. 

<They are controllers, they're onto us!> I shouted into his mind, but he could do nothing. 

"What the fuck, how?!" he yelled. 

<We had to have tipped our hand to someone--> I said, before arriving at the logical conclusion. I didn't want to believe it but it must have been Aslen. My own esmil got suspicious, or his host had figured out that we were cooperating, and informed the authorities. I was stunned. Had we truly been so careless? Was Seerow's kindness such a taboo? Four hours. We had lasted four hours. I had killed us both in under four hours. 

We were restrained with handcuffs and dragged into a store called the Gap. Connor was crying, since I had told him he would be infested with someone who _would_ enslave him. I couldn't even think to respond. 

<Isilla, please, help me! What can I do? I don't want to be a slave, please, please god what can I do?!> he rambled in terror. 

<It's okay, it's okay,> I lied. <We can figure something out.>

We fell silent and set to thinking. We had no way of knowing if they were taking us to the Pool, but if they were, that meant we would be seeing Visser 3. Every Yeerk on Earth knew his reputation for violence. 

We were dragged into the back of the store, taken past a controller who was watching the fitting rooms with a nod, fitted with a gag of some sort, and led behind a locked door in one of the rooms. I heard the screams of the different hosts from the top of the steps, and Connor went numb with fear. 

<It's like hell, like a portal to hell,> he managed to tell me. I wished more than anything I could provide him some reassurance, but I had nothing to draw on. We were doomed. Down the stairs we went, around the Pool, and up into the personal chambers of Visser 3. It was my first time seeing an Andalite up close and it filled me with terror. Connor as well. I decided not to share the knowledge that Visser 3 could morph, and had spent a considerable amount of effort acquiring all the most dangerous species in the galaxy for their personal repertoire. They could likely find a way to make us suffer beyond what Connor's nerves would survive. 

"Here is the traitor reported by Aslen-4419, Visser," one of the controllers said. 

<Very good, put them on their knees and then leave him to me,> the Visser commanded. I felt Connor's legs being kicked in from behind, and I took the pain for myself, wanting to shield him from as much as possible. It was my fault, after all. The controllers walked away, leaving us kneeling handcuffed in front of the most dangerous being on Earth. 

<Now, what to do with you…?> Visser 3 wondered aloud, pacing back and forth menacingly in front of us, the soft clinking of their hooves on the metallic floor reverberating into Connor's bones. <I wonder… Kadrona starvation? No, it would take too long, and your host wouldn't suffer enough,>

I was terrified, but for the first time, Connor seemed to be the one who was better composed. I felt a rising tide of rage fill him, and he realized this was the Yeerk in control of the entire invasion, and he stared the Visser down with eyes full of hate. They pressed a button on their remote, and the gag opened up for us to be able to speak. 

<Tell me, Isilla-8596, which method of death frightens you most?> Visser 3 asked casually, looking us up and down lazily. 

<Don't give him anything,> Connor said resolutely. <I'd rather die free than live as a slave.>

<Connor…> I murmured. <You can escape punishment if I take the blame for myself.>

<And lose half the credit? If you go down, we're going down together. Besides, they'll just stick some asshole in my head,> he said firmly, still giving the Visser a death glare. Before either of us had time to react, the Visser's tail blade was at Connor's throat, it's razor-sharp edge tickling the soft skin of his neck. I felt a flash of surprise and dread from Connor, but he quickly recovered and continued to exude defiance. 

"Fuck you," Connor spat. Visser 3 only looked mildly amused, but their bemusement melted into anger. 

<You fool, do you know whom you oppose, worm!?> they shouted. 

"You're the one who looks like a worm. Underneath that scary alien, that's all you are," Connor replied, his voice dripping with venom. I felt him lean into the Visser's tail blade as a way to keep control of the situation, not noticing the pain. "Kill me!" he shouted. "Kill me and be done with it. I can die happy knowing how short-sighted your species is, how you will never achieve beyond what you have."

I tapped into Connor's anger and resolve and felt better immediately. Where I was scared, he was stubbornly refusing to focus on anything but his anger towards the invasion, and Visser 3 by proxy. It gave me solace, and reignited my own feelings of loathing towards the Yeerk way of life. The Visser pressed their tail blade into Connor's neck harder, enough to draw blood, but not enough to cut any circulatory vessels that mattered. Connor's cold fury deadened the pain, and he barely noticed. 

<What ever do you mean? Your species is being brought to heel, and from there we shall enslave the Andalites,> the Visser sneered. <We have achieved what you could never.>

"You were _given_ your technology," Connor pointed out derisively. "You've had a great inventor--" he said, but I had stewed in his anger for too long, and couldn't keep myself contained. 

"We have had a solution in front of us forever, but it's been obfuscated by war, war, war! I can see now you'll never stop. I would rather be dead than help this empire's primitive goals," I shouted firmly. The Visser's eyes narrowed, but we were interrupted by the sound of a human voice. 

"Visser?" we heard a voice call up into the chamber. "I believe we've made contact with the Andalite force on this planet."

Even though it was surely only a brief respite, it made me glad to know that the oft-talked-about Andalite bandits continued to vex the Visser. I showed Connor the concept, and he understood. <Good, fuck the invasion,> he said. 

<Get up here. Brief me,> Visser 3 said, turning away from us. A controller with a human female host came running up the steps, and I felt the gag clamp shut at the press of a button on the Visser's remote. 

"I am almost certain that Eliss-9080's host was acquired by an andalite today, Visser," the controller said. 

<Almost certain? How great a fool are they to miss an Andalite touching them?!> the Visser spat.

"They were coaxed by a human, possibly an andalite in morph, into touching an animal. They said they felt very calm, and their host's senses went dull for a few seconds. I believe their host's DNA was acquired," the female controller said. 

<Acquired their DNA?> Connor wondered aloud. I was transfixed by the situation, and just dumped all the information I had on morphing. <Ohhhh,> he said. <I wanna do that.> The Visser wasn't letting up, however. 

<You mentally deficient worm! DNA acquisition is impossible when morphed! How dare you interrupt me when I'm handling morale for such vapidity!?> the Visser raged. The controller flinched, but quickly continued as Visser 3 raised their tail blade to strike. 

"The one they suspect was in human morph was behaving very strangely, trying to get people to touch the other one, who was playing dead in a bird morph. The controller watched the bird get up and fly away as soon as they left," the controller rapidly said in a small, servile voice. 

<So that weird kid and the bird were Andalites?> Connor sputtered. 

<I doubt it. The Visser sees Andalite bandits everywhere he goes, and strikes at shadows, so I'm told. He's likely just being informed as a formality,> I explained. 

<What is your name and pool number?> Visser 3 snapped. 

"Somnen-5861 from Shorred-Kal on Halimonia Prime," they responded, quickly adding, "The one who made contact is Eliss-9080 from the same."

I stared at the controller, knowing it was my closest friend in her head, but not being sure what to think anymore. My eslin had sold me out; I doubted Somnen would be on my side even if they _could_ help. Still it was nice to see them. They glanced at me quickly, but kept their attention on the Andalite. 

<That's a friend of mine,> I noted. <A sibling, really.>

<Can they help us?> Connor asked hopefully. 

<The closest thing a Yeerk has to a parent turned me in. I don't think we can trust anyone anymore,> I replied sadly. 

<Should this investigation yield results, Somnen, you and Eliss shall be suitably rewarded. But, if it should fail… I cannot guarantee a respite from the pain you will endure,> the Visser replied. 

"Shall I lead-" Somnen started to say, but was cut off by a derisive, barking laugh from Visser 3. 

<Hah! You? No, no, your Visser shall handle this matter personally,> he said smugly, tossing Somnen the remote and trotting out the door and down the stairs. <See that this traitor makes it back to their cage. I will finish with them later.>

<Wait, did he just…?> Connor asked, and I had no answer. Somnen listened at the top of the stairs for a minute, and then turned to us. 

"What in the Great Kadrona are you _doing,_ Isilla?!" they hissed, lifting under Connor's arms to help us to his feet. 

<May I use your-->

<"Jesus christ dude, just go ahead!" Connor exclaimed, drawing a look from Somnen, but their confusion abated when _I_ spoke. 

"Look, my host is something special, okay? I'm just doing my research and Aslen informed on me," I explained as they pressed the remote to free us, and Connor rubbed at his bleeding neck gingerly. 

"Wait, Aslen-4419? _Our_ Aslen?" Somnen scoffed, but I nodded, earning a wince from Connor. <Sorry, sorry,> I chagrined at his pain. 

"Yes, I think he thinks I am collaborating with my host or something," I lied, but Somnen wasn't buying it. 

"Aren't you, though?" they asked. I grimaced. If Somnen knew then they were a loose end, something that could lead back to me. Worse, given that Aslen, my trusted teacher, turned me in, could I really expect better from my best friend? 

"No," I said quickly, but they just wrapped their arms around me in a human hug. 

"I don't care, Isilla. You are my poolmate, and we lysed right next to each other. If you're doing what you're doing, I know you have to have a good reason, I trust you," Somnen said firmly, drawing back and running a hand through their hair. "I want to get you out of here, but how can we make that happen?" 

<Wait, she's gonna help us escape?> Connor pricked up hopefully. 

<Probably. We are very close,> I replied. 

<Remember what happened last time you said that?> he asked dryly. I didn't reply. 

"We need to make our escape seem accidental. I won't stand to have you suffer," I replied. 

"Well, you're a computer whiz, can't you delete your genes from the protein database? We can get you coded up under a different name, and you can slip back into the pool and nobody would be the wiser," they offered. 

"No, like I said, my host is a true anomaly. I won't leave him," I said. 

"Isilla, _everyone_ thinks their host is something special. You can get a new one, this might be your only shot!" they pressed. 

"No!" I said, louder and harsher than I meant to. "No," I repeated more quietly. "He is _me_ , born to a different species; an _elishkadrona._ "

"You're telling me that you got your elishkadrona on your first host?" Somnen asked skeptically. 

<Uh, what exactly is an 'elishkadrona?'> Connor asked, baffled. 

<Just like I said, you are me, born into a different species. An elishkadrona is a host whose mind is so seamlessly in sync with that of their Yeerk that they become equals in a mutual partnership. The odds of finding your elishkadrona are infinitesimally small, but I found you,> I explained. 

<I don't know how I feel about that,> Connor said, chewing on the concept. 

<It changes nothing about what I have told you. You will not be my vehicle longer than is strictly necessary, and you are not, nor ever will be, my host or slave,> I reassured him. He relaxed slightly. As much as one _can_ relax when their back is against the wall like ours was. 

"Somnen, trust me. He _is_ ," I promised. Somnen looked at me, sighed, and shook their head. 

"You need to delete his data then, too. And I have _no_ idea how you're going to feed if you can't come back to the pool," they said apprehensively.

"Well, this is Visser Three's personal chamber, isn't it?" I asked. 

"Yeah, apparently he likes to do his torturing in a comfortable setting," Somnen remarked with distaste. 

I walked us over to the doorway on the other side of the room, and was surprised to find it unlocked. I turned around and grinned at Somnen, who was shocked.

"I-I guess they don't count on people breaking into their quarters," they balked. 

"Oh my, they even left their terminal running," I cooed, delighted the Visser relied entirely on their reputation to discourage security breaches. No wonder these Andalite bandits were always breaking in at the least opportune moment. Still, it was password-protected, and I had to figure out how to get in. He should have read/write/push access to the entire database, so if I could get in, we would be safe. 

"I'm not going in there," Somnen called, and honestly, I didn't blame them. A few hours ago and I would have been quaking at the prospect, but now I was set to be tortured and killed, what more could they do to me? 

<Hey, remember you're thinking for two, now!> Connor reminded me. 

<I could use your help, actually. Have you ever broken a password or key entry sequence?> I asked. 

<Well yeah, simple stuff. What kind of encryption does it use?>

<Quantum?> I replied hopefully. 

<That's theoretically impossible to crack, dude,> he chuckled. 

<I know, I know, but do you have any other ideas?> I asked, grasping at straws.

<Well, I mean, he left his door unlocked and handed us off to the nearest person. He doesn't seem like a very security-conscious guy. Maybe check his desk for a written password?> Connor offered. I scanned around, and lo and behold: a human sticky note stuck to shipment manifest, complete with the Visser's personal password. 

"An-da-lite-scum," I mouthed as I typed it out. The screen flashed the pleasant purple of a successful login, and I couldn't help but laugh. Was the feared leader of the invasion really this big of an idiot? I cracked Connor's fingers and set to work. I scrubbed the databases clean of any record Connor or I had ever existed, and then leaned to one side on the chair to see if Somnen was still there. They were, looking concerned. 

"Do you want to disappear too?" I asked. They looked unsure. 

"Won't that mean I'll have a new identity? What happens to my host?" they asked, chewing their lip. 

"She'll be free, probably. I imagine she would know enough to run, if I deleted all the information on both of you," I suggested. 

Somnen looked conflicted, but after a moment, agreed. "We both say yes."

I scrubbed their information next, and re-integrated Somnen's protein structure as a new Yeerk, a fictitious Dalren-1521 from the Ilis-threl pool on Gal'throk IIa. I conveyed as much, and they nodded. 

"That should take the heat off both of us," I said, satisfied. 

<Won't you die if you can't come back here every few days?> Connor reminded me. 

<Yes, that's the next issue. The Visser should have… Aha! Only very special Yeerks get one of these,> I said, picking up the simple briefcase, cracking it open in my lap to reveal a shallow Pool and Kadrona ray generator. These were expensive, but here was one ripe for the taking. I let Connor see into my mind, and he understood. 

<What if it breaks down?> he asked. 

<With the right materials I could build one from scratch. I will have no trouble repairing it. And over time, I can teach _you_ ,> I replied confidently. 

<Wait, wait, we're still sticking to the plan?> he asked incredulously. 

<Why not?>

<We can't go back to my place, right? Even if I make a bunch of withdrawals and find a new place, if I can't use my real resume, who the hell will hire me freelance?> he asked pessimistically. 

<We'll figure something out. I'm defenseless without you, you understand,> I reminded him. He felt guilty, and groaned in resignation. 

I got up with the portable kadrona, grabbed the Connor's backpack from the other room, and turned to say my goodbye to Somnen. 

"Will I ever see you again?> they asked, sorrow in their voice. 

"I truly hope so. If things go according to plan, we will. Trust me, Somnen, you are my kin, and I will never forget you."

"Nor I you, kin."

I made certain they had their new details and backstory down to the letter, embraced them one last time, and gently held them as they slithered out into Connor's hand. Their host seemed terrified, but was silent.

<Perhaps it would be best if you spoke to her. You are a member of her species, after all,> I said, unable to tear myself from my brother, my sister, my _friend_ that lay in a borrowed hand. 

"Alright, what's your name?" Connor asked gently, putting his free hand on the human's shoulder. 

"B-Brittney," she stammered, trembling with fear. Connor, for his part, seemed to perform very well under pressure, standing up to the Visser, and now comforting this girl enough so we could all escape. 

"Okay Brittney, you heard the plan. We're going to walk out of here like we own the place, okay? We're going right up the stairs I came down on, and after that, you _disappear_. If we act casual, nothing will happen, okay?" he instructed gently. Brittney nodded. 

<We _are_ gonna act like Visser 3 sent us, right?> he asked. 

<Yup.>

Connor started down the steps, stopping to assess the layout, and made his way directly towards the Pool. He walked right past a gaggle of Hork-Bajir controllers who paid us no attention at all, and gently deposited Somnen, now Dalren, into the Pool. 

<Goodbye, Isilla.>

<Goodbye, Somnen.>

Connor turned on his heel and strode confidently back to Brittney, who was white with shock. He took her hand with the wet one that wasn't holding the kadrona, and confidently made his way towards the stairs we came down from. Just as we were about to make it to the stairs, an ill-tempered looking Taxxon controller skittered up in front of our path. I had seen a Taxxon before, but not with human eyes, and not this close. There were teeth upon teeth, shuddering and undulating in a horrible maw of unending peristalsis. Connor went numb, and somehow that seemed to only deepen his masquerade, even if he was so terrified his vision looked as if it was through the wrong end of a telescope. 

<Where are you taking this one?> they asked Connor. Automatically, falling back on some base instinct for acting, played it _perfectly._

"Bad physical reaction to her Yeerk, I'm taking her up to the Sharing for some psychological conditioning," he said, effortlessly weaving a plausible lie. 

<A reaction that could not be overcome? That is ridiculous. Have you ever had a Taxxon host?> they asked suspiciously. Connor was beginning to draw a blank when I absolutely _basted_ his mind with everything I could remember on Yeerk society, since I was too nervous to step in. He blinked at the sudden rush of information, then shook his head. 

"No. You should have gone into a trade, maybe you would have gotten a human instead _that thing_ . Maybe even a _voluntary_ , like I got," Connor crooned smugly, drawing from his new knowledge to play the part of a self-important officer to the hilt. 

<Oh really? What trade is that, _sir?_ > the Taxxon asked venomously, breathing wet, hot, putrid-smelling air into our face. Brittney was silently sobbing beside us while the Taxxon's mouth closer to us, it's teeth nearly touching our skin as its flesh rippled in ravenous, murderous hunger. 

<Is it onto us?> he asked. 

<I have no idea!> I replied helplessly. <Say something!>

"Advanced Compliance," Connor mustered. "Do you like that Taxxon, or would you rather have a nice, comfortable human? _My_ job is making more humans come to _us_." 

<I've never heard of that,> the controller said suspiciously, not easing up. 

"Yeah? Makes sense you'd be in a Taxxon then,"

Connor oozed, and the Taxxon pushed forward until it was right on top of us, front-to-front, maw open wide to display all the horrifying teeth inside.

<Fuck it, I'm going all in!> Connor cried, and then I saw what he was going to do. 

<Connor, no!> I shouted. 

Connor let go of Brittney's hand for a moment, reached back, and _bitchslapped_ the Taxxon right on its distended mouth. 

"Name, number, and pool, _now_!" Connor roared as the controller stumbled back in surprise. "I'm reporting you to the Visser for threatening an officer!" 

The Taxxon drew further, clearly stunned, and then began to roll inward on itself in its natural fear response. 

<D-don't say anything to Visser 3, sir, please,> they begged, true fear in their voice. <Please!>

"You're lucky I'm busy with more important things than _you,_ " Connor sneered down at them, firmly extending a hand to Brittney without breaking his look of disgust at the controller. "Get out of my sight you sniveling worm."

Brittney, who was dumbfounded, grabbed Connor's hand as we walked away. 

<Thank you! Thank you, sir!> the Taxxon called from behind us, and Connor made a point of ignoring it. 

We reached the stairs labeled 'to the Gap', ascended the first few stairs, and broke out into panicked hyperventilation. 

"Holy fuck we almost just died," Connor wheezed. 

"Wait, we did?! I thought you knew what you were doing! You were a total badass in there, was that all an act?!" Brittney gaped, and Connor nodded between half-laughing, half-crying wheezes. Brittney began to pant as well, and screamed into her hands in realization that she'd trusted her life to Connor's bluff, inhaling and sobbing when she ran out of air. 

"We have to go," Connor wheezed pointedly, and just then, a crash emanated from the other side of the pool, followed by what Connor recognized to be a bear's roar.

<I suppose those two from the parking lot _were_ Andalites after all,> I posited. 

<Yeah? Where are they when you need em?> Connor quipped, pulling Brittney up the steps and into the darkness. 

That was the last time I saw a Yeerk pool for a long, long time. 

  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6: Toby I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, bet you weren't expecting a third narrator!

My name is Toby. 

Yeah, yeah, get the Roots jokes out of your system; I'm a white girl, so about as far from LeVar Burton as you can get. You couldn't tell that from looking at me though, probably because I look like a red-tailed hawk most of the time. I'm stuck as a bird most of the time, which really isn't as bad as you'd think it'd be. Once you get over the fact that you have to kill to eat, it's peaceful. Simple. Hawks don't have busy schedules. I can always lose myself in the simplicity, since I'm not really a people person. 

I secretly live out in the woods with my uncle. Wait, that sounds kind of sketchy. Let me rephrase: I live with an alien named Ax, who is my father's brother, and we are supposed to keep our identities secret, since we're fighting in a war. That's what brought Ax to our planet, and his brother, before that. That's how I came to be stuck as a hawk, you see. The alien technology we were given to use to resist the body-snatching invaders, called Yeerks, allows us to turn into any animal we can get our hands on. If you stay as an animal for more than two hours, pow, you're stuck. That's what happened to me. 

I should tell you about Ax. I used to think I was the weirdest person on the planet, but he definitely stole the top spot. He's around the same age as me, and we're each other's closest friend. He's a good person, genuinely pleasant to be around, and we rely on each other a lot. We understand each other better than the rest of our friends. Ax and I used to spend most of our time together, just sharing space while reading, flying together, going to the mall; that kind of stuff. It was just him and me for a long time, since our other friends were usually busy. I used to have a girlfriend to spend time with, but a few days ago I was downgraded to just friend. I thought she was the one who I would be with forever, but it turns out she isn't into girls. Go fig. 

So, Ax and I used to spend most of our time together, but recently--and it feels crappy of me to admit that this really bothers me--I haven't seen too much of him since he started dating our mutual friend Marco. I know, Ax has his own life and I'm truly happy for him and everything, but I lost the person I loved and the person I spend the most time with all in the space of a single day. I just feel kind of… forgotten about, you know? Flying usually takes my mind off things, 'things' usually being depression. It's hard to stay sad when you can retreat to the air and see the world the way I do.

Flying is intoxicating. As a human you're limited to two dimensions of motion, basically a single perspective. The things you can see with a hawk's eyes are amazing. I can sit in a tree fifty feet up and still be able to read the books of the kids studying on the UCLA quad. I've been doing a lot of that lately, as my usual 'lonely' options of 'Hang out with Ax' and 'visit my girlfriend' weren't available. Some things from books come easily to me, like history, psychology, and journalism, but things like mathematics, medicine, and music do not. Still, even lost in a hawk's world, it was nice to have new reading material. I used to be able to go to the library if I morphed back into my human body, but I need to apply for a new card. I don't look much like the old picture anymore. 

Without Ax around to keep me from getting cabin fever--which I didn't know was possible when your cabin is hundreds of acres of forest--I just flew around to places I knew. First was my old school. It was a Saturday, so there wasn't anyone there, but it struck me how little it seemed to have changed. The vice principal is infested by a mind-controlling alien slug, and there was an entrance to the Yeerk pool in the janitor's closet, but it still seemed so mundane. Like I had only been that kid getting picked on and swirlied just yesterday. It's easy to lose track of time when you begin and end your day with finding a living thing to eat. 

I caught a thermal and lazily drifted away from the school, letting the hawk brain take over and going on autopilot. I had a vague awareness of what I saw, but I was just a passenger. I soared back to my hunting grounds near the woods where I live. Hmm, I wasn't hungry, so where were my instincts taking me?

It turned out to my Cassie's house. That was fine, I guess. I've been making an effort to open up to people a little more recently. I did a circuit around her house to see if she was home, and it turned out she was. 

<Hey, Cassie, you around?> I thoughtspoke to her from the air, leaving it up to her if she wanted to interact or not. By way of answer, she slid her window open for me to swoop in. Usually when I saw her she was doing some sort of farm work, be that mucking out the stalls in the barn, caring for sick animals, or other stuff like that. Not this time; I gently landed on her windowsill so as not to scratch the paint, and found her with a book in hand, and papers strewn around her bed. 

"Hey Toby, what's up?" she greeted me. It was a little awkward. Not because we didn't like each other or anything, we get along just fine, just that we've known each other for years and I had only come calling on her a few times before. She's the mutual friend you hang out with when you're with your other friends, but you haven't put in the effort to become close to. It made me feel a little weird. What was I supposed to tell her, that I was lonely and she was the only one around? 

<I don't know. I was just passing through the neighborhood and figured I'd stop in and say hi,> I said, feigning nonchalance. Her face told me she didn't buy it, but she also didn't look judgemental. Sensing she could see right through me, I quickly changed the subject. <What are  _ you _ doing?>

"Just some homework," she said, gesturing at the papers on the bed.  _ 'The Social Contract: Incongruent Expectations, Disproportionate Benefit, and Finding and Escape Clause,'  _ one of them read. 

<History?> I guessed.

"Close. Ethics," she corrected. I was a little jealous. Ethics sounded cooler than the stuff we had to take back when we were freshmen. She noticed me skimming the papers and added: "I could use some help." 

Ouch, her tone was like that of an offer. Like  _ I _ would be the one benefitting. Which was absolutely the case, given my solitude, but still. Her emotional intelligence always intimidated me. But it was an honest offer, and what was I going to say, 'No thanks, bye?'

<Okay,> I replied, hopping onto her offered arm. <I spend a lot of time on campus. I can give you another pair of eyes, at least.>

"Which campus?" she asked, a note of surprise and approval in her voice. 

<All the ones within half a day, but mostly the really  _ college-y _ ones where people actually study on the lawn,> I admitted. Southern California is a place with more universities than most, but she had to know I could only fly to one or two good ones. She went to set me down on the footboard of her bed, the only place I could comfortably perch, but I flared my wings. 

"Huh?" she faltered, surprised, lifting me back up. 

<Would you mind if I morphed human?> I asked. 

"Of course not!" she said, pushing some of the papers out of the way and placing me down onto the comforter. "Sorry, I forgot."

<It's okay. I forget sometimes too,> I replied, already beginning my morph. I used to  _ hate _ morphing human, and I pretty much only ever did it to hang out with Rachel or Ax, since they were the only people who made it bearable for me. I was not a fan of being a guy. Something about it was just  _ gross.  _ It was like being stuffed into a box too small to stand up or lay down in, and being a hawk felt like being stuck in a regular sized room.. But I recently changed my body's DNA around, and my new morph feels like the place in the alps where Julie Andrews waltzes around in the Sound of Music. 

"Want to borrow a top or something?" she offered once I was fully human, and I nodded. Morphing is weird; it only lets you take clothes with you when you morph if they're skintight, so I was wrapped up tighter than a sous vide steak. After a few moments of Cassie digging through a pile of clothes near her closet, she passed me a big t-shirt she got from a blues traveler concert. 

"Thanks, I'll never get used to being saranwrapped," I complained as I pulled it on, taking a seat back down on the floor. 

"It's my favorite look either," she agreed, looking down and away in distaste for the necessity. 

"So: Homework?" I asked, and she passed me a printout of an assignment. She was required to write a paper on how industrial society detracted from the human condition, and (her pick of) either why the social contract had failed human civilization, or why external management was needed in the day to day lives of everyday people. I handed the printout back to her in disgust. 

"You know this teacher is a controller, right?" I sniffed. She nodded sympathetically. 

"It was obvious from day one," Cassie agreed, taking the printout and folding it neatly. "it doesn't bother me that much. It's pretty easy to ignore propaganda when you know it's propaganda."

"Doesn't it bother you to know that that yeerk is molding people into willing controllers?" I asked, very unhappy with the concept. I felt a shiver run up my spine, and drew my knees up to my chest. "It's one thing to control someone's body, but indoctrinating them so you can control their minds… That's just  _ evil. _ "

"I've had controller teachers before. You ever recognize anyone when we've been to the Yeerk pool?" she asked. I shook my head. I'm not exactly a people person, so I hadn't known a single controller that I know of, besides Chapman, before I started living the hawk life. Cassie shrugged and continued: "This is the first one I've had who seemed like she really cared about influencing us. I don't think it's her mission, maybe the Yeerk just believes it." 

"What if she's voluntary?" I wondered with a shudder. Cassie didn't look nearly as perturbed, but said nothing. An uncomfortable silence stretched between us, until Cassie broke the silence. 

"Well, if their ideas can't stand up on their own, then we shouldn't be afraid to examine them," she said gently. I mumbled quietly in the affirmative. She was right; I didn't think the yeerks would change Cassie's mind about anything, but I was worried for everyone who was unaware of the invasion. What if they bought into the ideas, not realizing what road that line of thinking would lead them down?

"That philosophy is what made the Unabomber kill those people," I pointed out. "Does Professor Yeerk like  _ him _ ?" 

"No, she actually condemned the comparison," Cassie retorted. 

"Regardless. Having someone teaching this sort of thing to civilians is dangerous," I muttered, mulling the impact. 

"It's also a window into their mindset, Toby," she said after a few moments of me staring off into space while considering the implications of yeerks spreading their philosophy in education, media, and government. Once they hit a critical mass, they could basically  _ tell _ people what to believe, and they would be swimming in voluntary hosts. Cassie offered a decent point, though. "We can see how they think, what drives them, and how to fight them better."

"Yeah," I conceded absently, regretting asking about her homework. I enjoy philosophy and debate--you have to, otherwise living with Ax for years would drive you crazy--but this topic had me torn, and my utter powerlessness to really change anything made me feel worthless. All of us except Cassie started out outright  _ hating _ Yeerks, every single one of them. Over time, we came to have a little more nuance about things. Even Ax, the one who had the most diehard contempt for them, begrudgingly admitted that there were some Yeerks who weren't pure evil. It didn't make me hate the invasion any less. Sometimes I caught myself thinking of controllers almost like enemies in a video game, not  _ people _ like me. It made them easy to despise, easy to kill. It scared me sometimes how quickly I fell back on something as strong as  _ hate _ when on a mission. 

Cassie must have noticed the shift in my demeanor, because she rose from the bed and beckoned me to come with her. I stared at her for a moment, not really knowing what she wanted--like I said, I'm not good with people--until she jerked a thumb downstairs and asked if I wanted some lunch. I didn't know. Food is great and all, I have a lot of things I like to eat, but nothing really compares to the satisfaction the hawk feels after it eats something that had been alive a few minutes ago. Nothing approaches the primal feeling of 'I am good at staying alive' that the hawk instinctually feels for a job well done. Is that how a yeerk feels, subduing a host? Was that their biological imperative, the way hunting was for me? 

"Hellooooo…? Earth to Toby?" Cassie prodded, and I snapped out of my reverie. 

"Huh? What?" I asked, feeling as disoriented as if I had been woken up from a nap. 

"Do you want me to make you a grilled cheese?" she asked. For good measure, she added: "I need a break anyway."

"Yeah, thanks," I said, running a hand through my hair and standing up. "Sorry for overthinking it."

"You aren't overthinking it," she replied as we made our way to the kitchen. "You're smart, Toby. You think things through, but in a way different from everyone else. How many times have you been the one to come up with a way out of a jam?" 

"That's mostly because I fly, though," I sighed doubtfully, resting my chin on my arms on the high countertop. 

"Well, you have a different perspective," she retorted graciously, pulling out some bread and butter. "It's still valuable, be it from flying, your relationship with human society, or just who you are as a person. So, even if you don't see it, you're making  _ me _ think. So thank you." 

I caught myself smiling weakly. It was a nice sentiment, and I could tell Cassie meant it. She smiled back at me, glad to see she could help. If Captain Planet came down and made us all Planeteers, she would definitely be stuck with the power of heart. I got stuck with the ring of weirdness and bird, so take that however you want. My mind began to wander as the smell of melting butter and toasting bread filled the kitchen. I started thinking about the last week. Last Monday everyone knew me as  _ Tobias _ , the weird guy, and now they knew me as  _ Toby _ , the weird chick. I had a horrible feeling one or two now thought of me as  _ Tobias,  _ the  _ really,  _ **_really_ ** weird guy, but anyone who thought that was probably doing their best not to show it, so I couldn't tell for sure. Still, it was jarring how quickly it went from feeling like a dramatic upheaval to fizzling into my usual ennui. I thought maybe things would change for the better, and I'm happier all right, but it's not like the rest of my problems just  _ go away.  _ Going from guy to girl didn't make me stop feeling depressed. It didn't make me better with people. I'm still me. 

Cassie had been the only one of the group to take the whole 'Toby's a girl now' thing in a way that didn't make me feel weird. Rachel and I had to stop seeing each other, and she needles me for not being a girly girl like she is. She seems bitter that she lost her boyfriend, and even more so that the girl who took his place isn't who she wants her to be. I can tell she's still angry on some level, but she's just coping the only way she knows how. The hardest part is that I still love her, and I have no idea when that will fade, or  _ if _ . 

Jake's heart is in the right place, and he's trying his best, but I can tell he's still a little weirded out. I feel guilty for making him feel that way. Ax, when he is around, is on the other side of the spectrum. He was almost  _ offended _ that I hadn't mentioned my real gender before, and he was really the catalyst for me to start being who I wanted to be, even though I'm still not really sure who I want to be as a person yet. Ax acts like nothing has changed at all and that he's always known me as a chick, and it sort of makes me afraid to experiment with who I am in order to find a comfort zone. It's not his fault, but I'm afraid to change the way things are with him. I'm his shorm, after all; I have responsibilities. 

Marco is almost like Ax, but worse. He bends over backwards to affirm my female-ness, in his overly-dramatic, over-the-top Marco way. It was charming at first, but it was so melodramatic that it got old pretty quick. That guy has a career as a stage actor after the war, mark my words. The few times I've seen him since I switched over--which is when he was with Ax at the scoop--he did these cartoonishly-chivalrous flourishes, calling me 'Milady' and stuff. It got to the point where Ax had to assure me Marco wasn't making fun of me, and was just trying to be extra-nice. I guess he feels some kinship since he's gay and people aren't generally fans of people like us, but it feels weird that I'm part of a whole class of people now. I don't want to be a label; I'm just Toby. Whoever that is, anyway. 

But then there's Cassie. I've been opening up lately and all, trying to get a feel for myself, but it probably wasn't random chance that the hawk flew me to her house. Cassie doesn't pretend like I've always been this way, and doesn't go out of her way to make me feel special. She doesn't treat me exactly how she used to, but it feels genuine. Ax ignores that a switch ever took place, but Cassie acknowledges that things are different now, though she doesn't fixate on it like Marco. She feels like the only person who gives me space to figure things out, and actually understands what is going on. She acts just like she did when I became a nothlit; when the others offered me pity, she offered me compassion.

"Hey, Cassie?" I called, my voice slightly raspy for some reason I couldn't pin down. 

"Mhm?" she asked, turning around from flipping the grilled cheese. 

"Thank you," I said hesitantly, unsure of how to phrase my appreciation. "For being around, that is."

"I'm always here, Toby," she smiled, but her expression melted into concern when she got a good look at me. "You came here because you needed a friend, didn't you?" 

"Yeah," I told her shakily, my voice hitching. "Ax is never around anymore… I've been so alone since Rachel and I..." 

Only now did I realize that I had been crying. I only realized because my already-dull vision blurred with tears. I felt the sudden warmth of a tear tracing down a path left wet and cold by the ones before it. I cursed myself, gritting my teeth and doing my best to stem the tide. I wiped my eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to minimize the damage. While my head was down, I felt the soft pressure of her arms around me, and that caused the dam to burst. She hugged me tighter as I broke down, and I instinctively returned the embrace. Even as I cried, I was _mortified._ These are not things I should be this upset about. I'm an adult woman, and a soldier at that; this felt uncomfortable and inappropriate. And yet, the catharsis was absolutely _intoxicating_. By the time I had dried my eyes and gotten my breathing under control, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted. 

"I'm sorry," I breathed, drawing back. I avoided her eyes; I was too ashamed to meet her face to face. 

"For what?" she asked, sounding almost hurt. She studied my face intently, waiting for me to answer. 

"For  _ that, _ " I said, voice wobbling. "I shouldn't be this upset over that stuff."

She simpered and pulled me back into the hug, to which I had no objection. 

"Toby, you can't be mad at yourself for having  _ feelings, _ " she said softly, stroking my hair soothingly, and I was surprised at how nice it felt. "It's okay to feel lonely. Besides, we cry more than guys do."

"Yeah, but…" I protested, but she interrupted by drawing back and taking my hands in hers. I was taken aback; that wasn't something I'd ever had anyone do to me. I'd only ever seen girls do that, so--oh, right. Like I said, I forget sometimes. It was jarring being treated how I wanted. It was so earth-shatteringly new that I forgot to enjoy it. 

"You just got dumped by someone you still love, the only other person you rely on is busy all the time, not to mention you just went through a massive change that I can't even begin to comprehend the emotional repercussions of," she said sternly, looking me dead in the eyes and giving my hands a squeeze. "I'm amazed you're keeping it together as well as you are." 

"I can handle it all, it's just… It happened all at once," I sniffled. "I'm torn between wanting to figure myself out as a person since I'm not a guy anymore, and I also want to just retreat into the hawk like I always have. Hawks don't feel, not like I do." 

"The first option sounds way better than the second," she opined, cocking an eyebrow at the spread of the dichotomy. She let my hands limply fall back down to my sides. "You never really got to figure yourself out as  _ you _ , which takes people their whole life, sometimes. Nobody can do that alone, you know."

I shrugged weakly. "What do you mean?" I asked. Was she offering help, or…? 

"Well, I'll just tell you how I see things," she said, leaning back against the wall and looking up thoughtfully. "I will gladly help you as much as I can; you're my friend, and that means something. But how can you grow when you're limited to the same five people? When was the last time you met someone new?" she asked.

It surprised me that I couldn't remember when that was. Who did I meet first, Erek or Ax? Either way, she had a good point. You don't make many friends out in the woods, but when I had Rachel, when I got to spend a lot of time with Ax, it had been… Bearable. Easier, because I knew where I stood with everyone. It wasn't like I had many friends before Elfangor found us at the construction site, anyway. Sure, I was trying to be more social now, seeing if it fit, but I wasn't good with people anyway, and I didn't see that being something that magically changed with a new human morph. I wondered if the other Animorphs had friends outside the group. Did Jake have people other than Marco or Cassie that he sat with at lunch? I'd gotten so used to it just being me and Ax that I never even thought about things like that. 

"I don't know if anything will be different," I sighed. "I guess I can give it a try, though."

"It's only for a little while if it turns out you don't like it. Ax and Marco are just in their honeymoon phase, so Ax will have more time for you soon," she said soothingly, and I was starting to come around to her way of thinking. I remembered how it was when Rachel and I first got together. We'd spend all our time together for the first few weeks, talking, doing things, and just sharing space when we had nothing more to say. It had been addicting at first, but as time went on, it went from addicting to just comfortable. Still wonderful, but I stopped  _ needing _ to spend all my time with her. I wonder how Ax felt back then, probably lonely and terrible. I would have to apologize someday. 

"A clean slate sounds kinda nice," I admitted. Maybe going to one of our clothing caches around town, morphing human, and just meeting some new people would do me some good. It couldn't hurt, at least. I pushed my hair out of my face, and being able to see clearly again I noticed a distinct fog in the room. Cassie saw my confusion, and whirled around to see smoke wafting from the stove. 

"The sandwich!" she cried, lurching to pull it off the heat and desperately trying to prise it off out of the pan onto a plate. It one side was fine, but the other had been burned black. "Crap, Toby, I'm sorry, let me make--" she started, but I grabbed the plate and took a bite. 

I wolfed it down, savoring the shock on her face more than the salty cheese and bitter carbonized bread. She gawked at me like I was a freak of nature, but I finished the last bite and gave her a big, crumby grin. I didn't care what it tasted like. It had been a gesture, and that made it the best damn sandwich I'd had in a long, long time.

"So, back to homework?" I grinned. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawk girl just needs a hug ;~;


	7. Chapter 6: Connor III

It's surprisingly easy to disappear if you had a head start. Between the ruckus the Andalites had been causing when we raced out of the Yeerk pool and the fact that Isilla had deleted all the information on me--giving master commit permissions to a guy who writes his password down on a sticky note is a bad idea--I had at least a few hours to grab some things from my apartment and disappear. As soon as we got Brittney to swear to secrecy and to go off the grid for a while, I pedaled home as fast as possible, making a mental list of stuff we would need. It was late in the day, so cleaning out my accounts would have to wait until tomorrow, but I snagged a few grand from ATM's. I was able to fit my PC and monitor in my bike's little pull-behind cart I have for garage saling, and I stuffed a bag full of all the decent clothes I had, and another full of sheets and blankets. I took some of my personal effects, a few books, all the dried food I could carry, cup noodles mostly, and an electric kettle. Between those things, my backpack full of hardware, and Isilla's briefcase, the cart was stuffed, and we set off in search of somewhere to lay low for a while. 

<Won't they figure out I'm gone and put out missing person notices? The cops are all controllers, right?> I asked Isilla as we rode through the night. 

<Most, but not all. Still, only the controllers who worked in the Sharing will know your name and face. Has anyone gone to your apartment? Does anyone know your surname?> Isilla needled. 

<No and no, but they've got Tommy, so they might as well,> I reminded him grimly. 

<I admit I am still in shock over Aslen,> Isilla said, sadness in his tone. I could understand how that would feel crappy. I couldn't imagine being stabbed in the back by a parent like that. Brittney's Yeerk, at least, restored a little faith where their species was concerned, so they couldn't be  _ all _ bad. Isilla didn't feel like he was, and besides, he was all I had now. 

<I'm really sorry about that, dude. That wasn't a good interaction for either of us,> I replied sympathetically. Isilla said nothing. 

We pulled up to an abandoned storefront I had seen a few times while riding around. It had taken a few hours, but we weren't in LA proper anymore; instead we were in the more urban part of Santa Monica, a few miles from the PCH. Far enough that the Yeerks wouldn't be looking around here anyway. There was a cracked window on the second floor that was covered with a plastic sheet, but it looked like if you could lift the tarp you could get in. It wasn't a particularly difficult climb--I'm kind of thin so it's not hard to lift myself up--and I was able to pull myself inside the apartment above the store.

<Arboreal evolution has its advantages,> Isilla commented. 

It was pretty grimy inside, I won't lie. There was a bathroom with a sink and a toilet, but not much else. The sink miraculously had water, but no heat. I fiddled with the lights and found that there wasn't any power coming to the building. This place couldn't work, then. 

<We have to find somewhere else,> I posited. 

<It'll be fine. We can power the devices we need off the portable kadrona's fusion reactor with a little bit of modification,> Isilla said reassuringly. 

<Really? Where does it get the fuel from?> I wondered to him as I went down the steps to the side entrance and propped it open with a rock. 

<Moisture in the air. It separates the hydrogen and injects it directly into the microplasma,> he explained. <Power output should be in the range of a few of your kilowatts, which is more than we can use.> Regardless of the situation, I thought that was pretty cool. The fact that such technology was possible gave me hope for what we were doing. 

Once all of our stuff was hauled up into the dusty apartment, I brought up the bike and locked the door. There were a few interior maintenance tools laying around, like scrapers, a little bit of paint, and a shop broom, like people had been trying to fix the place up before it was abandoned. I swept up the floor, and in so doing, made a discovery. There was a duffel bag in the back, full of clothes for a few people. 

<Oh no, does someone live here already?> Isilla asked, fearful. 

"I didn't  _ see _ anyone, and from the dust on the bag it looks like it's been here for a while," I noted. "It's only cheap clothes, male and female. Maybe it belonged to a teen couple who ran away from home or something?" 

It had six outfits and six pairs of shoes, all in different sizes. Maybe it was all some kid could scrape together, maybe it was six people who left their stuff here. Either way, I doubted they would be coming back for it if it sat here undisturbed for so long, so I left it where it was. I gingerly cleaned the cut on my neck with water I hoped was clean. The damage wasn't that bad, but it looked like I had leaned into the blade a sickle. Adrenaline had numbed me before, but now I felt an alarmingly-deep cut, ending  _ just _ above the jugular and carotid. I snagged some gauze from the first aid kid I always kept in my backpack, and tied it up with medical tape. 

<I'm sorry about your wound. You were very strong back there,> Isilla professed. <From the Visser to the Taxxon… You are full of surprises.>

<That was new to me, too,> I answered honestly. It was like someone else entirely had entered my body when I was dealing with the situation. I was too angry to die when the Yeerk leader was threatening to torture us. I spilled my guts and really laid into him, which wasn't like me at all. Maybe I finally found a political cause I cared about. The Taxxon was different, I wasn't  _ me,  _ I was some amalgam of caricatures rolled into an--apparently--believable Yeerk officer. All I did was channel Frasier with a side of Colonel Klink, plus a little bit of Darth Vader at the end. It was pure instinct, and I have no idea how it worked so well. 

Thanks to the tremendous exertion of the day, I was tired, hungry, and overwhelmed. I laid out some sheets on a clean section of ground and a blanket a comforter on top of that. As I lay down, Isilla spoke. 

<Would you rather I spend the night in the kadrona?> he asked politely. <I know you don't like having me in your head, and if that is the case I don't want to stay longer than I have to.>

I was dead tired; I had spent the morning with the Sharing learning about the existence of aliens and space politics, had stared down furry blue four-eyed death, slapped an alien monster in the face, and had pedaled over 15 miles from west Hollywood to Santa Monica. I was about ready to keel over, and I couldn't be bothered to care if Isilla was in my head or not. He was polite, and he was willing to stick his neck out for me. I trusted him at this point. I didn't want him in my head all the time, but right now, I really just didn't want to be alone. 

<You can stay if you want,> I said, and I got the mental equivalent of a hug. 

<I don't want to be alone either,> he echoed in a small voice. It must be hard for him too. We were both completely cut off from our lives, completely on our own, and were likely being hunted. At least I was still able to interact with humans after a while, but Isilla wouldn't be with his people for a while even if our plan worked out perfectly. I tried--and failed, I think--to give him the mental hug back. He understood what I was trying to say, however. 

<Goodnight, Connor.>

I woke up the next morning confused as to where I was. It took me a minute to remember the events of the day before, and another minute to remember it wasn't a dream. This was all actually happening. I pulled the sleep out of my eyes and sat up, stretching. I'd always enjoyed a firmer bed, but hard ground was a little too much, and I had a crick in my back. I did my best to crack it out, but it felt sore for the rest of the day regardless. 

<Isilla? You up?> I called. I didn't get a response. Huh, I guess Yeerks need sleep too. It must suck for controllers who wake up before their Yeerk does and aren't able to move. I took the opportunity to use the restroom, which was annoying in the dark, and I had to be very sparing with the toilet paper I brought. As I washed my hands, I went over my mental inventory, and calculated we only had supplies to keep me alive for about a week before I would have to go shopping. I realized I should probably clean out my accounts as quickly as possible, so they wouldn't be frozen by the Yeerks in law enforcement. They knew 'the traitor' was gone but I wonder how long until they noticed 'Connor and Isilla' were. He'd been thorough in his deletions, going through several deletion processes of system logs and backups so we were well and truly out of the system, but I still had to act fast.

Isilla woke up when we were halfway back from our ride to a branch of my bank in the next town over, where I cleaned out my account and mailed my parents a short, sterile 'don't worry when you hear about me I promise I'm okay' note. 

<O-Oh,> he commented in surprise when he awoke to find we were already in motion. <Good morning.>

<Morning sleepyslug,> I chuckled. <Did you get enough sleep?>

<Yes, I fell asleep at the same time as you did. I didn't know this could happen,> Isilla mused groggily. <I guess most Yeerks wouldn't leave a host in control, so it makes sense it's not a common phenomenon. Shouldn't we be in hiding?>

<Yeah, but I can't live there unless I can pick up a few things. I need some kind of matting at least,> I told him mentally pointing at my sore back, and he flashed understanding to me. 

<I see that you closed out your account--and good thinking to do it in a place that will mislead any investigation--but how much exactly is sixty thousand dollars?> he asked. 

<A solid year's pay for most people. Since our expenses are pretty low, it should last us for the foreseeable future. I had more, but the rest of it is in a credit union that has a single location. It's where I first heard about the Sharing, actually. It hurts, but that money is poison right now,> I explained. 

We rode to a Wal-mart next. We picked up the essentials, like a hot plate, floor matting, dozens of extension cords, duct tape, lighting, an air conditioner, a space heater, some rugs and even a small television. After filling the remaining space in the cart with canned food and bottled water, I asked Isilla if he needed anything. 

<We weren't able to purchase any microcontrollers yesterday,> he said. <Will they have those here?>

<I doubt it, but we could cannibalize some out of some consumer electronics,> I reckoned. 

<Will they sell motors, servos, and the like?> he continued. 

<Nope, but we can prise them out of things. How heavy-duty do they need to be?>

<Not that heavy at all. We're just building proof of concept here,> he reminded me. 

<I know where we can get that stuff,> I said, taking us to the toys section. We had to weave our way around some kids whacking each other with foam swords, and Isilla was enthralled. 

<Larval humans!> he murmured in delight. <They are so small! How many of your years old are they?>

<I don't know probably like seven or eight?> I guessed. 

<So old! You mature slowly, as a species. How old are  _ you?> _ he asked. 

<Twenty three,> I replied, picking up a moving action figure to see how many motors it would have in it. I didn't want cheap plastic mechanisms, only solid metal stuff. If Isilla was going to build a simple machine to control, we needed to make sure the parts were good enough.

<Twenty-three? How far along in your life cycle does that make you?> Isilla queried, ravenous for information. 

<You know you can always look through my memories,> I told him. 

<But I enjoy talking to you,> he said, sounding a little hurt. I felt bad, because as much as I hadn't expected it, I enjoyed having him to talk to as well. I don't know how long that would last before I wanted some privacy, but he was smart, and always answered my science questions. It was the least I could do to reciprocate for his curiosity about  _ my _ world. 

<That's about a fifth of the way through if I play my cards right,> I said, setting the toy back down and dodging around the youngsters who had brought their battle into my bubble. 

<That is quite long-lived. Only Andalites live so long,> Isilla said reverently. <For example, I am only six of your years old.>

<Six? Seriously? You guys must develop quickly,> I commented. 

<Yes, we are born when our parents exchange genetic information and lyse into nearly a dozen individual bodies. Only about half will develop into Yeerks, the rest dissolving completely over the next day. We are born with a certain amount of ingrained knowledge. It's not genetic memory, but since we are based on proteins rather than DNA, our epigenetic are far more malleable, so we  _ do _ inherit aptitudes for skills, most of our language and social development, and many other small things,> he explained. I was glad he asked now, because that sounded  _ fascinating _ . 

Selecting another toy from the shelf, this time a good-quality RC car, I popped the top open for an instruction manual as I replied. <So you don't get to have much of a childhood?>

<Well, we are expected to learn from day one, and are taught things in a way that almost allows us to--it's hard to phrase, but-- _rediscover_ _things_ within ourselves? We mature much faster than humans, anyway, around the same rate as Hork-Bajir or Taxxons,> he explained. 

<So how long do you have left to live?> I asked, pausing my inspection of the RC car. I was certain Isilla felt my little jolt of unease at the prospect of him dying soon. 

<Oh, I am young, so maybe forty of your years. If we are successful in our endeavor, however, it will open the door to higher forms of existence,> he said consolingly. He was right. Neural interface was the gateway to transferring brain function bit by bit to computerized parts, keeping your consciousness intact until you were a fully immortal computer being. I wondered if that was how Crayak came to be, or if he was wholly artificial from the beginning. 

<Yeah…> I trailed off, tossing a few of the RC cars into the cart. <How similar is Yeerk neurology to Human neurology? Like, will this research benefit us too?>

<We are mostly neural tissue, which is why we are able to integrate with central nervous systems, as long as they operate using electric action-potential. The system we're developing should easily work when calibrated to a human brain,> he said warmly, and my fears were put to rest.

We grabbed a few power tools and some soldering equipment, and then we were on our way back home. It was the most money I'd ever spent at once before, just barely edging out when I bought the parts for my PC. I had to tie it down with a tarp for the ride home, and really cursed myself for not having a car. We made it back to our hovel in one piece, and it took nearly ten trips to get everything up into the apartment. The rugs really tied the rooms together, and once Isilla showed me how to adapt a surge protector to his fusion reactor, the lights made the place a lot more livable. The windows had been boarded up for a while, and the one broken window covered by plastic sheeting was soon doubled up with the tarp and some duct tape so there wouldn't be any light bleedthrough, and air could pass in, but not out. I didn't mind a breeze, but having a stray gust suck out my clothes or papers seemed like a losing prospect. 

After everything was unboxed and the cardboard neatly broken down in the corner, we looked over our new hideout. It came together alright, but I wouldn't want to live here for longer than I had to. The walls were spartan, the ground was cheap wood panels where it wasn't covered with rugs, and I had no hot water. I felt like an undergrad. I was taking an airport shower--cleaning yourself using only soap, shampoo, a hand towel, and a sink--when I arrived at a problem when I got down to my waist. Isilla had been asleep when I went to the bathroom before, but he was awake now. 

<I can leave your head if you want, but  _ do  _ realize I've been aware of all of your sensory perception since I woke up, right?> he said as I thought about how to handle washing my junk. <I understand your apprehension, but you should know I don't place any special value on your reproductive organs. Of course, I will leave if it makes you feel better.>

I inhaled and closed my eyes. 

<You really don't feel weird about it or anything?> I asked. I knew he was an alien, but I didn't even know if he was a  _ he _ . 

<No more strange than your hand or tongue,> he said reassuringly. <I'm neither he nor she, by the way. Any two Yeerks can reproduce. Sexual dimorphism is limited to DNA-based species. We exchange genes equally between both parents.>

<Oh, uh… sorry, I've been thinking of you as a guy,> I replied sheepishly. <I'd been thinking of  _ everyone  _ as the gender of their host.>

<That's perfectly alright. Sex or gender mean nothing to us, so most of us don't mind one way or the other. Think of me however is easiest for you; I don't have a preference,> Isilla said, but it was one of those can't-unhear things. A Yeerk wasn't he or she; they were a  _ them. _ Like a jellyfish, a bacteria, or even a computer. Still, they had a point. 

<I guess it wasn't particularly exciting for me to hear about how you guys do it,> I reasoned, steeling myself and dropping my boxers. <You can stay. Just try not to talk about  _ this part _ , alright?>

<Understood,> they said dutifully, flashing me a mental image of a cartoon Hork-bajir giving a snappy military-style salute in front of fade of a fluttering American flag with fighter jets passing directly overhead. I burst out laughing, and Isilla gave me a mental smile. I finished up with my washing, threw on some fresh clothes, and sat down in my new camping chair to get to work. 

<Alright 'Zilla, what are we working with here?> I asked, dumping out the treasure trove of hardware onto the card table I'd bought to serve as my desk. 

<Zilla?> they asked skeptically. 

<Yeah, Zilla. Like  _ God _ zilla,> I said, sending them the image of the old kaiju movies, complete with theme music. <I'll stick with your actual name if you don't like it.>

<It's okay, just don't go overboard,> they said, turning my attention to the hardware. 

<Yeah, yeah,> I grumbled. I picked up a brand new Pentium III and inspected the fine print on the chip. Manufactured by Intel corporation in Irvine, CA yadda yadda, serial number yadda yadda… Aha! 9.5 million transistors. <Is 9.5 million transistors good?>

<It's not enough to do the kind of data transformation we want, but it'll have to do. Not unless you have a spare electron gun and magnetic scattering device laying around,> Isilla replied, clear from their voice they didn't expect us to even have heard of such a technology. Oh how wrong they were. I smirked and sent him everything I had on cathode ray tube technology, and while my knowledge wasn't super technical, I had spent my childhood taking those things apart and putting them back together. I was one of  _ those  _ kids. Radios, VCR's, toasters, TV's, Walkmans, CD players… I preferred tinkering with that kind of stuff to actual toys. It's how I frankensteined enough parts together to build my first computer. 

<Wait, wait, your televisions operate using electron guns?> they asked, perking up. 

<Yeah dude, if we went to a junkyard we could find cathode ray tube stuff all over the place,> I replied. 

<I will have to check the specifications, but… It seems your species has made the parts in  _ that _ \--> they said, lightly directing my eyes towards their portable Yeerk pool. <\--quite ubiquitous. Those are very expensive to manufacture in miniature; the metals alone are priceless. Truly, yours is an Untouched species,> they said with reverence.

<So we can sweeten the deal with robot suits that feed you guys?> I asked, laughing in disbelief. <That technology is on the way out for newer digital displays, but you're telling me you guys can  _ eat _ TV radiation?>

<It would seem so!> Isilla replied happily. <Still, that in and of itself isn't enough to give Earth the bargaining power it needs. Surely the Empire knows that Humans possess the ability to provide every soldier their own personal Pool. If it isn't capitalizing on it already, they must be avoiding it to create artificial scarcity. That, or it doesn't work how I think it does. Either way,  _ robots. _ >

<Don't have to tell me twice,> I hummed. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all. Isilla shared the notion, and we got to work. 

They showed me a concept of what we were trying to build, and I understood immediately. We would be treating each processor like its own transistor or tube, each one a node that took extremely detailed data and parsed it into a form usable by a microcontroller. It would have to be compact, and as such, heating would be a problem, but we had prepared by buying some plastic surgical tubing and thermal media. The graphics cards would be acting as the control system to the whole assembly, and the whole thing would be an unbroken series of hardwire connection from neural tissue straight through to the mechanical components, just like a nervous system. 

<That is so  _ cool _ ,> I said in wonder. <We're building a second brain, almost.>

<Exactly. We cannot control body parts we don't have, so we are harvesting the same impulses used to control a host in order to translate our will into mechanical motion,> Isilla remarked. I carefully soldered the pins of one chip to a graphics card, and then another, creating nodes of computing power, like giant processor cores. We went through a few of the laborious and intricate modifications, focused entirely on the clockwork-level of delicacy that the circuit modifications required. Isilla guided me through them, and one day melted into the next, and then became two, and then three. 

They developed a way of communicating concepts that I had come to enjoy: overly stylized mental pictures, almost like cartoons. Like mental cutaway gags from TV. When we were discussing Visser 3, Isilla sent me an image of a wildly cackling over-the-top looney Andalite. When discussing their youth in the Shorred-Kal pool, they sent an image of anthropomorphic Yeerks in suits crammed into a bus. It was entertaining, and I was really coming to appreciate their personality. I never expected it, but they were fun to talk to as a person, not just a goldmine of scientific information. 

Whenever Isilla left my head to stew in the Kadrona pool, I felt surprisingly  _ empty.  _ I hadn't expected to feel that way, but it was like finding a roommate you really gelled with. We didn't read memories of the other that were not freely given, but still were able to provide each other answers to questions we were one abstraction away from asking. Our minds became synced, in a way. Isilla learned a lot about human culture, and I learned more and more about computer science, of which they were a bottomless well. We quickly grew quite close; closer than friendship, maybe, almost familial. Maybe I really  _ was _ their  _ elishkadrona _ , if such a thing existed. On our seventh day of work, we completed the circuit modifications, and Isilla deemed we needed a rest. I was in the zone, ready to start coding the firmware for our ad hoc supercomputer, but Isilla needed some external stimulation. It was as good of a time as any to eat lunch, so I poured some water into the kettle for a bowl of noodles. 

<Sorry, this won't be tasty,> I apologized, having run out of perishables. Three days of nothing but ramen and canned vegetables left me feeling pretty sick of it, and resolved to get Isilla some  _ real _ food to try with me at some point. I couldn't have them thinking taste was limited to cost-over-quality facsimiles of Asian dishes. I was  _ really _ hoping I wouldn't have to eat the Spam I bought on a whim. 

<Don't worry, Connor, taste is something that is still new to me, and I will enjoy any chemical stimulation you can provide. I admit, I am jealous of your species,> they remarked. It was true, they always seemed very happy whenever I ate, likening the experience to some kind of drug. 

Just as the water was beginning to boil, and I was considering risking taking Isilla to see a movie, I heard a soft clatter from the broken windowsill, and then the crinkling of the plastic, indicating something had  _ come in.  _ It sounded too light to be a person, and when I peered around the corner, I saw that it was just a bird. The plastic opened inwards, and went down to the floor, too heavy for it to push back open, especially with my duct tape job on the sides and concrete chunk on the bottom. It was stuck in the room like a lobster trap. Shit. How was I gonna get it out of there? Corral it down the stairs? It seemed to get other ideas once it caught sight of me, desperately beaking at the plastic to pull it back, to no avail. That was pretty smart for a bird,  _ too _ smart. I realized I had seen this bird before; it was the one from the parking lot the other day. 

<It's an Andalite!> Isilla cried, compelling me to lunge at it, grabbing it in both hands while it screamed and bit at my fingers with its sharp beak. Not what I would have done, but I couldn't just let it go now that Isilla grabbed it. 

"Hey, hey, Andalite! Relax! I don't want to hurt you!" I said through the pain, and the bird stopped. Holy shit. I was hoping I had been wrong and had only manhandled a wild animal, but it cocked its head at me as soon as I said the word Andalite. "We don't want any trouble, man, we just need to know you're not gonna kill us, okay? We found your clothes, and we didn't mess with them or anything. I'm just a controller who ran away. I'm on the Andalite now," I said, unsure of how true that really was. We weren't really fighting to help the Andalites, we were fighting to save Earth. "Can we talk?" 

The hawk began to grow in between my fingers, its feathers melting into its body as a lime-green skin took their place. Small nubs began to appear on wings, head, and tail, and it was looking increasingly reptilian. 

"What the fuck? Isilla, you told me morphing didn't work like this!?" I asked, thinking back to all the knowledge he shared when we were back in the Visser's quarters. They weren't supposed to be able to go from one body directly into another; Isilla's memories indicated they had to go back to their original body before morphing to a new one. 

<It doesn't! This must be some kind of new generation of morphing technology!> they cried, plainly at as much of a loss as I was. 

Eventually the Andalite grew too big to hold in my hands, and I watched in horror as it morphed into a Hork-bajir in front of my eyes. I fell back onto my ass, too stunned to move. As soon as it looked like it was finished morphing, it grabbed me by my shirt and slammed me into the wall, pinning me there with one arm and threatening my neck with the blades on the other. 

"Hold on, hold on, I just wanted to talk!" I sputtered, trying to push the bladed arm away from me, but it didn't budge, and I only succeeded in cutting my fingers even more than the hawk beak had managed to. 

<What are a yeerk and a brainwashed human doing here?> a female voice snarled in my mind, disgust evident. 

"We're runaways, trying to stop the invasion!" I blurted. "Please don't hurt us!" 

<Come on Connor, where's the guy who slapped a Taxxon!?> Isilla grilled me, hiding their fear behind impetuousness. 

<Easy for you to say! It's not your body she's gonna kill!> I threw back. 

<If you die, so do I! Even I get out of your head, I'll lose my elishkadrona!> Isilla wailed. 

<Traitors, huh?> the Andalite taunted suspiciously. <What's all this shit then?> she asked, jerking her head back towards my desk, where the near-complete supercomputer lay. 

"It's--" I began to say, but she pressed me into the wall hard enough I was worried my ribs wild crack. 

<Do you think I'm stupid? You're staking this location out. You were  _ waiting  _ for us!> she said angrily. <How much do you know?!> she roared, the pointed tip of her tail dragging up my side, leaving me with another big slice in my flesh, far deeper than the one the Visser had left. I was about to cry out in pain when Isilla took over. 

"We're trying to force the Pan-Galactic council to recognize Earth as a neutral power! You know the consequences for invading an Untouched system, an Untouched  _ species!  _ The Anati, Kelbrids, and Desbadeen will join your side if we ensure Earth remains free!" they said. The blade was pulled from my side, but her grip didn't loosen, and her tail still hovered near my body enough to make me realize she was probably going to gut me before long. 

<Do you know how many times I've been screwed over by you slugs? I will never trust a Yeerk,> she spat. <Or anyone who collaborates with one.>

I felt that slimy sensation I always get when Isilla exits my head, and felt alone.  _ Naked _ , almost. 

<Take me, then! Kill me, torture me, do anything, just please stop hurting Connor!> Isilla begged the Andalite. <He asked for none of this, and no being should die for the crime of wanting to save their planet! We're only scientists! Just leave him.  _ Please. _ >

The Andalite looked down at Isilla on my shoulder with a look of obvious confusion. 

<Wait, w-what?> she stammered. 

<Acquire me and morph me; look in his memories,  _ anything!  _ Just don't hurt him! He has already suffered enough at the hands of Visser 3,> Isilla pled. Their voice held sorrow I had never heard from them, not even when Aslen had betrayed them. It sounded like defeat. 

"Don't hurt Isilla, either," I choked, unable to hear them giving up on themselves. "Neither of us chose this. Do what they said, search my mind if you have to!" 

The Andalite was clearly perplexed, and peeled back the gauze on my neck to inspect the wound from the Visser's tail blade. She gingerly felt my freshly-healing tissue, and I winced, the sharp soreness and itching pain making me gasp. In a moment of absurd abandon, I wondered how many other species would slice me with their tails before I died. From the way things were going, just the two, unless a wasp flew in and stung me before the Andalite finished me off.

<Visser 3 did this?> she asked, looking into my eyes. 

"Yeah, we only barely escaped," I grunted in pain, and she looked away. She let me down to the ground, and I plucked Isilla off my shoulder and held them in my hands protectively.

<Why are you here?> she asked, avoiding looking at us. <If you're not working for the Yeerks, how did you find this place?>

"We just… We needed somewhere to run, because they'll find us if I got back to my place," I said, with a big, implicit _ 'duh.' _ I put a hand to my side, and it came away very bloody. That couldn't be good. "If you're using this place as a meeting place or something, it's probably because nobody will mess with you here, right? Same for us."

<I scrubbed both our signatures from the databases, so we should be safe for now,> Isilla supplied. <We were using this place as a hideout, and the Empire doesn't know about it.>

<What's all…?> she trailed off, waving a clawed hand at the desk. Despite her huge, terrifying form, she sounded quiet, small.

"Our research. We're working on a technology that will secure Earth's safety and neutrality, and get the Yeerks out of here," I winced, starting

to feel woozy. I braced myself against the wall to remain standing.

<Neural interfaces, if you must know,> Isilla chided. <It's a technology that will benefit all living beings. We both hate the invasion as much as you do, and this is our way to stop it.>

Even though her face was alien to me, it was clear from body language that the Andalite was ashamed of herself. I could tell she was still suspicious, but from the way her eyes kept hovering at the massive bloodstain on my shirt, it was clear she regretted it. 

<How did you know I wasn't just a regular bird?> she asked quietly, fully facing away from us now. 

"I talked to your friend at the mall the other day, and we overheard Visser 3 talking about you two getting human DNA. You guys attacked the Yeerk pool right after, right? That's how we escaped without them following us," I posited, feeling lightheaded and strangely cold. Was this what blood loss felt like? Trippy. 

<You…> she murmured. <You're being hunted by them, just like us...>

<Connor is in need of medical attention, and we can't risk exposing ourselves by going to a medical facility,> Isilla interjected harshly. <Can you help us?>

<Yes,> she said apprehensively. <But you have to stay here while I get someone. You can't leave or talk to  _ anyone _ about us.>

" _ No _ , really? I was just getting ready to go for a jog," I deadpanned. The Andalite already began to morph back into a bird, and I took the hint and held the plastic sheet back to her to fly off and get whoever she needed to. 

<How can we be sure you're not just leaving us?> Isilla doubted fearfully.

<You're just going to have to trust me,> the Andalite said, flapping up onto the windowsill. 

"Tell us your name, at least," I weakly implored her. She gave me an indecipherable look from behind hawk's eyes, and flew away without a reply. 

<Connor, you ought to lie down,> Isilla said firmly from my palm. 

Numbly, I rolled up a towel and lay down on it, and it pressed into my side. The pain was unreal, but it was pressure on the wound, and would help with the bleeding a little bit. I looked at Isilla, who was in my lacerated hands, all covered with red. I studied the Yeerk for a moment, wondering how such an intelligent being lived in such a small body. I hoped they wouldn't miss me too much if the Andalite didn't return in time. If she returned at all. It struck me as likely that she probably wasn't coming back. Why would she? 

"That happens if a Yeerk is inside a host when the host dies?" I rasped. 

<Connor, you're not going to--> Isilla quavered. 

"Zilla. Answer the question," I weakly demanded. I'm a realist. I didn't want to hear platitudes about how I was going to live. I wasn't. Odds were, this was it for me. 

<Okay,> Isilla sighed heavily. <Dying of blood loss would mean the Yeerk will die as well.>

"Oh… Okay then," I said, doing my best to hide my disappointment. "Never mind then." 

<I don't care,> Isilla insisted. <I'm not leaving you.>

"But then you'll--" 

<Do it, Connor,> they instructed firmly. <I'm nothing without you. There would be nothing left for me, and you know it.  _ Please. _ >

I brought a shaking hand to my cheek, and Isilla made their way into my ear. At once, I felt warmer, safer. Like everything was going to be alright. 

<It will be, I promise,> Isilla said reassuringly, wrapping me up in their mental embrace. 

<I'm sorry this is how things are.> I thought. <I'm happy I got to meet you.>

<Shh, don't say things like that,> they said gently. <Everything is going to be just fine.  _ You _ are going to be fine.>

<I hope something comes after,> I murmured.

<If there is, I'll be right there with you,> he promised, but I knew neither of us really believed in such things.

<I know,> I lied, and then the world faded to grey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I said, yeah hey,   
> Yeah hey,   
> Oh man she's got issues,   
> And I'm gonna pay


	8. Chapter 8: Toby II

<CassieCassieCassie!> I called frantically as soon as I got in range of her house. It was probably weird that I was back at her place the next day, but I was hoping with every fiber of my being that she was around. I didn't see her anywhere on the farm, and couldn't hear anything but animals in the barn, so I landed on her windowsill and desperately pecked at her window. I saw her in her room mouthing "What?!" at me. 

<I fucked up, I fucked up big time! Get a surgery kit and follow me!> I explained. <I'll explain on the way. It's like fifteen miles, so pick a fast bird. I'll carry the equipment if you want.>

She ran downstairs, returning with a plastic box I knew to be full of scalpels, stitching, gauze; anything you could need to do surgery on an animal. I pushed off and glided around when she flung the window open and started morphing a condor. The kit must've been too heavy for an osprey to carry, but I had no idea how fast a condor can fly. 

<What's going on?> she asked, taking off just as she finished her morph. <Who's hurt?>

<A controller,> I said. Any other member of the Animorphs would have stopped right there and asked why I was helping an enemy. Cassie didn't. Power of heart, yo. I elaborated: <There's a guy and a Yeerk who are runaways from the Pool, and Visser 3's after them. They're trying to do some kind of science thing that'll help somehow? There was a lot of politics. Ax will understand better than we will.>

<So Visser 3 hurt them and you got them to safety?> she incorrectly surmised. 

<Uh… no, they were hiding out at one of our clothing caches. Remember the abandoned building in Santa Monica? I may have thought he was staking us out at first,> I said, flapping hard to gain altitude. <He called me an Andalite, so I went Hork-bajir and cut him pretty bad.>

<Oh, Toby…> Cassie said, her voice dripping with disapproval. Like I should have known better. Maybe I should have, but it didn't matter now.

<It was fight or flight,> I defended weakly. 

<I've never known you for the 'fight' type. Did he have any weapons?> Cassie asked. 

<No. At least I don't think so. He had a bunch of computer stuff in there though,> I offered. <The Yeerk said they were scientists on the run.>

<If they're just scientists with no weapons, why was your first reaction to hurt them? You should have told Jake,> she admonished me. She was right. I hadn't known what they were all about at first, but even if I found a regular controller staking us out, I should have held them in place and called the others somehow. 

I mentioned I didn't know how fast a condor could fly, but it turns out they can haul ass. We made it from northeast LA to Santa Monica in under ten minutes. I hoped the controller had lasted that long. 

I barreled into the plastic sheet, landing and holding it open for Cassie with my beak. She fluttered in as elegantly as a giant, bald, turkey-looking bird can, and immediately began to demorph. I glanced at the controller, and he looked like he was out cold, so I wasn't too worried about Cassie turning into a human in front of him. Underneath the controller was a blood-soaked towel, and his skin was looking way paler than it had. 

"Where's he hurt?" Cassie asked quickly, obviously stepping into 'professional' mode. She was a better vet than most, and she hadn't even started college yet. 

<His side. I cut him pretty deep,> I said, wincing as I remembered the blade go in. His face when I dragged the blade through haunted me, and hearing him and the Yeerk beg for each other's lives made me feel like a monster. Maybe I  _ was _ a monster. <Is he alive?>

"Barely; look at his fingers. Look at his side!  _ What the hell, _ Toby!" she recoiled, clearly disgusted with me. She snapped on some sterile gloves, cut off the controller's shirt, and doused his side in antiseptic. I'm not squeamish--I kill living things daily for food--but I was having a hard time looking at the wound without thinking how if he died, it would be all my fault. If anything either of them said was true, and they really  _ were _ resisting the invasion, I may have murdered an ally. Murderer doesn't have a nice ring to it. It's not like killing someone in battle. It's just…  _ murder. _

The controller stirred when Cassie ran her finger throughout the wound to fill it with some kind of ointment, probably a coagulant or antibiotic. I was expecting her to stitch it shut, but she just crammed it full of gauze and turned to me with a helpless look on her face. 

"I stopped the bleeding, but he's going to die if he doesn't get some blood," she said. "He didn't happen to mention--?" she said, shrugging weakly. 

<No, he didn't. Fuck, I should have asked,> I replied. 

"Only O negative blood could save him," she said in defeat. "But that's the rarest blood type there is, so…" 

I didn't know my own blood type. I had mixed my DNA with that of two other people, and didn't know how that interacted with that sort of thing. I had no idea what my blood type was, but I knew what  _ Tobias's _ was. 

<I… I used to be O negative,> I admitted, and began to morph. I was Tobias again, and Cassie hurriedly wrapped my arm in some kind of rubber band. She found a vein in a few seconds with a syringe attached to clear plastic tubing. 

"Squeeze this," she instructed, slapping a rubber bulb into my hand. I obeyed, squeezing with a hand that felt too big, and watched the blood fill the tube, squirting out the syringe she attached to other side. She repeated the process on the controller, and we were linked at the arm, my blood flowing right into him. Morphing restores a body to perfect health, so I wasn't worried about him running out of blood. I could keep him going for as long as I had to. 

Cassie packed the wound full of fresh, then used a mean-looking instrument to pull the skin together so she could tape it shut for the time being. The controller moaned in pain throughout the procedure, but ultimately did not wake, and now his rattling breaths the only indication he was still alive. Cassie wrapped up his bloody fingers in bandages, wincing as she saw how deeply the cuts went. She wiped her brow on her arm, pulled the gloves off her hands, and leaned back against the wall, exhaling in relief. 

"He'll be okay," she said in a flat tone that told me she was still upset with me. I said nothing, not wanting to hear this body's voice. "Give that another twenty minutes, and then you can pull it out. He's not losing any more blood, so once you give him a pint and a half, he'll be okay. Keep squeezing that pump every couple seconds."

I nodded silently, avoiding looking at her. I was ashamed on too many levels to look her in the eyes. In my logical mind I knew some Yeerks didn't want to be part of the war. That didn't stop my emotions, my  _ instincts _ , from seeing them as nothing but evil, and not worthy of life. I couldn't help it. You fight someone for long enough, and in your mind they become a faceless collection of times they tried to kill you. I hoped that was something unique to humanity.

<I'm going to get Jake and the others,> she said plainly, already morphed to osprey. 

<I'm sorry,> I muttered sheepishly. 

<Tell  _ him _ when he wakes up,> she said curtly, wiggling her way between the plastic sheeting and the wall, up to the window, and she was gone. 

Over time, the controller's color returned, and his breathing steadied. After forty-five minutes or so I felt lightheaded and cold, so I yanked the needle out of my arm, being much gentler with the end stuck in the man on the floor. I stuck a bandage on his arm and demorphed, the feeling of faintness disappearing as quickly as the feathers replaced my skin. I felt more comfortable immediately, but not because of my body; it was because of my mind. It was comforting being able to retreat into the simplicity and cold pragmatism of the hawk. A hawk doesn't feel shame or regret. Was this who I had become, someone who ran from their mistakes? Was I more animal than human, lashing out at anyone in my path? 

The others entered the room as birds, demorphed quickly then morphed to something more physically capable, just in case he woke up. Ax remained as an Andalite, however. Cassie must have filled them in on the way over. 

<You just can't behave, can you, Princess Trouble?> Marco chuckled from his coyote morph.

<Cassie said you just found them in here? What were you doing here anyway?> Jake, currently a wolf, asked, ignoring Marco. He didn't sound upset or anything which surprised me. 

<Yeah, I think it was just random chance he was hiding out here. He said he was running from Visser 3 and trying to do some kind of computer thing to help somehow? I don't understand what he meant,> I admitted in a small voice. <I was here to demorph and grab some clothes. I just wanted to do some human stuff, meet new people. To get used to it again,> I explained. I gave a single, mirthless laugh. As if I was even human anymore, regardless of how generous you were with your definition. Rachel, currently a large kangaroo, snorted at my reason. I avoided her gaze. 

<How did you know he was a controller and not just a homeless guy?> Marco asked.

<Come on, dude, look around,> Rachel said, incredulous, gesturing at the desk full of hacked-together computer hardware. <Does this look like a homeless guy to you?>

<He said I was an Andalite,> I said. <He said he saw Ax and me at the mall, and overheard us breaking into the Yeerk pool the other day.>

<So your first reaction was to morph in front of him and then attack him?> Cassie asked, still disapproving. She was in leopard morph, and her tail hung low, indicating stress. Somehow, her judgment hurt more than it should have. She padded over to look at his wound, noting, <He should be fine. It was a very clean cut, and he's received a blood transfusion.>

<From where?> Rachel asked in surprise. 

<Me,> I said, not wanting to explain further. 

<I, for one, don't think her reaction was unwarranted. What was she to assume, that the Yeerk was a traitor?> Ax came to my defense. While I appreciated it and had no doubt he really  _ didn't _ see anything wrong, it didn't make me feel any better. 

<No. I messed up,> I admitted. <He grabbed me first but I had him pinned and did…  _ that,> _ I said, shamefully extending a wing at his ravaged body.

<That's not self-defense, dude,> Jake said gravely. 

<I know,> I acknowledged quietly. 

<Your response was only natural,> Ax told me privately. <Why do you sound upset?>

<He was pretty much defenseless. I wanted him to tell me everything he knew, and hurt him. That's  _ torture _ , Ax,> I replied. 

<You acted well within the bounds of what is honorable for an Andalite warrior, my shorm,> he pressed. 

<Ax… your honor-bound warrior routine suits you sometimes, just… just  _ not now, _ > I sighed. It was vaguely hypocritical of him, since his newfound relationship with Marco went against the warrior code he loved to preach about. He fell back on military doctrine too often, whenever he wanted to avoid self-examination or answering any tough questions. He is my best friend, my shorm, but it's his chief weakness in my eyes. 

<We won't know the right of it until he wakes up,> Jake stated. <You went a little overboard, more than the situation called for, but he'll live.>

<A little overboard?> Cassie repeated sardonically. < _ Look at him. _ >

<Have you forgotten we're in a war?> Marco quipped.

<I jumped the gun. I admit,> I said, making no effort to defend myself. <I only stopped when they started begging for each other's lives. It wasn't very Yeerk-like.>

<Toby, we get it, you're a big bad evil monster.  _ Literally _ whatever, he's gonna be fine,> Rachel said dismissively, jerking me out of my self-loathing. She was always good at that. <The  _ real _ problem is what we're gonna do with him. He thinks we're Andalites for now, yeah, but how long before he puts two and two together? I don't imagine you were trying very hard not to sound human?>

<I don't remember. Probably not,> I replied. 

<I think she passes for an Andalite well enough. It's possible this will resolve itself if we step back from the situation,> Ax commented. Marco grunted in agreement, leaning against Ax's torso. <Besides, I can convince him if necessary.>

<He can't go to a hospital. The Yeerks are looking for him. He's going to need more medical attention after this,> Cassie stated plainly. 

<So we'll keep him under watch,> Jake decided. <When he wakes up, we can find out what he knows, and what he's up to.>

<The Yeerk kind of offered for me to morph it so I could see the guy's memories, see that they were on the level,> I suggested. <We could do that.>

<Morph a Yeerk? Be serious,> Ax harumphed. I knew before I said it that it wouldn't be his favorite idea.

<I ain't morphin' no Yeerk,> Marco agreed brashly. 

<Pff, forget it,> Rachel echoed. 

<I'll--> Cassie started. 

<I made this mess. I'll fix it. I'll do it,> I interjected rapidly. Ax looked at me like I'd kicked a puppy. 

<You would debase yourself by…?> he trailed off, incredulous.

<I... I actually need your help, Ax. They were talking about some other aliens or something, something about Earth being 'Untouched',> I recalled. <You know more about this stuff than anyone else, so I would appreciate it if you could help me parse whatever information I find.>

He shut his eyes for a moment, then looked down at Marco. They shared a look, and probably private thoughtspeak, and I assume Marco won out. <Very well,> Ax relented. <But only because I fear what will happen if I am not with you. I do not trust any Yeerk, and if this human is voluntarily collaborating with one, I do not trust him either.>

<She'll know once she gets in there and sees. In the meantime, he needs to be watched. You up for that?> Jake asked me. I dipped my head in the affirmative. <Good. Just keep up the Andalite charade.>

<I'll be back to check on his dressing tomorrow,> Cassie said. <He should be awake by then, and Ax can come too.>

< _ Only _ to help  _ Toby _ ,> Ax said firmly. <Not for this  _ collaborator. _ >

<Jeez, you two and your weird Andalite stuff, it's kind of annoying,> Rachel snarked.

<How do I make this right?> I asked Cassie privately.

<Certain things can't be undone. All you can do is apologize if he does turn out to be an ally. Maybe you ought to  _ check _ next time,> she said. Her tone shifted, adding sharply, <I know you're going through some shit, but  _ don't _ take out your frustration with your life on anyone, not even the enemy. It goes down a dark path.>

If a hawk could hang its head, I would have. She was right. The rest of their voices became fuzzy, and I was deep in thought by the time they left. My contemplation was broken when I felt a delicate, seven-fingered hand stroke down my back. 

<This would not have happened had I not been neglecting you,> Ax said, a guilty snag to his tone. <I should have realized you must want to re-socialize yourself now that your desync is corrected. I apologize for not being available for that.>

<It's alright,> I sighed, surprised to find I wasn't verklempt. It wasn't the best situation, but Cassie was right, Ax was just in his honeymoon phase with Marco. They deserved a respite from the war however they could get it, and I was genuinely happy for them. Things would normalize eventually, but in the meantime I couldn't help feeling a little abandoned. <I'm really glad you two are happy together, it's just… I just miss you, man. With Rachel gone, you're all I've got.>

<I should have set aside some time for you,> he chagrined. <The feeling of being with another person is intoxicating, and I forget everything else but him.>

<I was that way too when I started seeing Rachel,> I shared. I didn't want him to feel bad. <Sorry if I wasn't around a lot back then.>

<Well, don't replace me with a controller,> he joked, nudging the prone man's foot with a hoof. <Or worse, the Yeerk.>

<Don't worry, Ax, not gonna happen,> I chuckled, falling back into the comfortable ease we've always shared. It was like taking a shower when you're all grimy; I felt refreshed just by talking to him. <I don't think I work without you,> I admitted. 

<That is why I'm not worried in the slightest,> he assured me. For the first time in the past few days, I felt like myself again. If someone you're close to is in your life every day, you  _ really _ feel it when they're absent for a week. Just talking with him was a reminder he existed. Of who he was, who I was, and who  _ we _ were. 

<Thanks man, it means a lot. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?> I said, and he nodded with his eye stalks.

<If it is possible to leave him unattended in the future, I will set aside some time that will solely be for us,> Ax pledged. If it wouldn't have broken my cover to morph human, I would have hugged him. 

<I'd like that very much, Ax,> I thanked him. <Now go be with Marco.>

He smiled with his eyes and said his farewell, flapping away from the building. I was left alone with the man I had savaged, but more importantly, my guilt. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toby_irl: https://youtu.be/-unV0m-jZHs


	9. Chapter 9: Isilla IV

I woke up, feeling as though my Kadrona shallow had been baked through by an alien sun. I was too hot, my mind was foggy, and it felt as though sludge marched through Connor's veins. But I was alive. Which meant so was Connor. How…? I stirred, rousing Connor with me, and when he shifted, we felt a jolt of pain in his side. 

"Fuck, man, what the hell?" Connor groaned, gingerly feeling at his side. He winced and inhaled sharply when his fingers touched his wound. 

<We survived,> I said, not  _ happy _ , but pleased we wouldn't be parting just yet. 

"Oh, hey dude,> he breathed, a small smirk creeping onto his face. "We're pretty tough to kill, huh?" 

<Looks like it,> I smiled, sending him a mental image of an overly-muscular and hairy version of himself slapping a comically monstrous Taxxon, and then cartoon Connor roaring like a barbarian over the Taxxon's corpse. He laughed, which caused his side to hurt, and I did my best to steady him. 

<I guess the Andalite came back then,> he surmised, shifting into a more comfortable position on the mat. <Were you awake for any of that?>

<No, but, just from the look and feel of things, they used Human medical technology on you,> I pointed out, hearing air shifting around in the holdfast from wind or similar. 

<That makes sense. How similar is Human physiology to Andalite?> he asked. Even recovering from a near-death experience, always learning. Always hungry for more. 

<In terms of organs, not much. Neither of us know enough about biochemistry to know about organic makeup, but it looks like you both have analogous skeletal, nervous, and circulatory structures. So fixing a wound like this would be something they  _ should  _ have been able to use their technology for,> I explained. <But dedicated medical technology isn't something a guerilla group would have; it was outmoded after morphing became available.>

<Morphing fixes your body?> he asked. 

<To your base genetic health, yes. Injuries will be fixed,> I confirmed. 

"Shit, dude, why the hell aren't we working on  _ that? _ " he wondered, exhaling slowly as he closed his eyes. 

<That's quite beyond  _ either _ of us,> I reminded him. <We're computer scientists, if you haven't forgotten.>

"If the Andalites let us live," Connor said, and he shared with me the knowledge that the odd rustling noise he had been hearing was a bird. The very same bird, in fact, that had morphed into a Hork-Bajir. Connor glanced over at it, and we saw it perched on the arm of the desk lamp. "Thanks for the treatment, I guess," he said, weakly gesturing in its direction. 

<I didn't help you. The one who saved you will be back to check on your wound soon, and then I will take you up on your offer to look inside your mind,> she said, sounding forcibly stiff. <You will find some water to your left.>

"Oh, thanks," Connor said warily, taking the water bottle and inspecting it before downing it all in one chug. 

<She sounds wayyyy more formal than before, dude,> Connor commented, wiping his lips. 

<I agree. But I have never spoken with an Andalite before, so that might just be how they are,> I cautioned. It was true, her style of speech seemed more human than not, but spending years on a planet haranguing the Empire likely changed vocabulary. I had only been here a week and I had already found myself using more natural styles of human speech-- _ Connorisms _ , I called them. 

"How long was I out?" Connor asked. 

<Approximately fifteen hours. Much of that was sleep, and your blood was replenished from a suitable source,> the Andalite said flatly. She turned her head away from us, something Connor ascribed as shame, even though her morph wasn't humanoid. <I would like to apologize for my rash behavior. That was inappropriate of me.>

"You wanna just let me morph it away?" Connor suggested. I expected a bark of derisive laughter and flat denial, but the Andalite was far more vague. 

<We will discuss it,> she said, turning back to us. <In the meantime, it would speak well to your intentions if you were to answer some of my questions  _ without _ the need of me needing to morph your Yeerk.>

"Fair, fair, both of us are up for that," Connor agreed, having my support to establish ourselves as allies. "Quid pro quo, though; can you explain some things to me about space and stuff?" 

<What? Connor, I thought I was going to explain all--> I said, hurt that he would assume the Andalite knew something about astrophysics I didn't, but he calmed me down. 

<Relax, buddy. I know you know your stuff, but remember how she sounded kind of human before?> he explained, and I caught on immediately. 

<Aha, if she can't speak about basic physics, that would be proof positive she isn't an Andalite!> I exclaimed, sending him my prideful feelings. I did believe she was an Andalite, else how could she morph, but I wasn't a Yeerk to sit still on that sort of thing. <But wait, what about the law of Seerow's Kindness? She won't break that.>

<Well, we can grift her before she gets in my head, see what she really knows,> Connor said. <But once she gets in here, she'll know we tried to play her. But she'll know we even considered it. So we might as well.>

<What sort of things about space?> the Maybe-Andalite asked suspiciously. 

"Well, you know, we're just computer scientists, so Isilla knows  _ some _ things about physics, but I'm curious about the details they  _ don't _ know," he lied. "I just want some gaps filled in."

<What kind of gaps?> she queried.

"Isilla already explained aneutronic fusion, but I was pretty curious about Z-space," Connor lied. 

<Z-space is an extra dimension,> she replied simply. <It's how our ships get around so fast.>

"Yeah, I already know  _ that _ much, but like, what's the relationship to mass-energy?" Connor pressed, noting her vague answer and grilling her harder. 

<That's something any Andalite would know, right?> he asked, wanting confirmation. 

<Oh yes, it's something that all schoolchildren in nearly every civilization learn in your equivalent of second grade,> I replied, fishing around in his memories for a useful comparison. 

<I uh… I wasn't a very good student. You can ask one of the others when he arrives. He is better in the sciences than I am; I'm only a soldier,> she said simply. 

<That's  _ especially _ odd,> I posited. 

<What do you mean? I mean, maybe we're just dealing with a slacker or something,> Connor offered, giving her the benefit of the doubt. 

<Well, Andalites are DNA-based, so they have two sexes, and the sexes are treated very differently. The  _ males _ are soldiers, and the  _ females _ are the scientists, almost across the board. You implicitly recognize her thoughtspeech as female, so it would be odd that the better-educated sex would be oblivious to something so simple. I wouldn't say it's  _ concrete _ evidence, but definitely a point in the 'she's not an Andalite' category,> I explained. Connor nodded along mentally, and I continued. <Besides, even their warriors are better trained in science than a human, no offense.>

<None taken, you guys are literally aliens,> Connor agreed. 

"Alright, I can wait. What were the questions you wanted to ask  _ us _ ?" Connor said, seemingly dropping the subject. 

<I have a couple. Most importantly, how exactly did you escape Visser 3?> the bird asked, her talons scrabbling on the lamp for a different position. <He's very dangerous.>

"The Visser captured us at the mall after we got stabbed in the back by Isilla's only parental figure. Visser 3 was just about to torture us for information when he got distracted, to go after you guys, I think. One of Zilla's friends set us free, and we wiped ourselves from the registries. The other Yeerk was given a new identity, and their host got  _ way _ the hell out of dodge. She's going to keep quiet," Connor explained. 

"She knows she will be captured if she draws attention," I supplied helpfully. 

<So you covered your tracks,> she mused. <Well done. Once the others arrive, we can judge how  _ thoroughly _ . What precisely is all  _ this? _ > she asked, gesturing with a wing to the assorted computer parts cobbled together into the basis of our processing unit. 

<Mind if I field that one?> I asked.

<No problem, go for it,> Connor demurred. 

"This is Isilla speaking now," I said through Connor's mouth. 

<I don't care, go ahead,> she said, impatient.

"Since Earth is an Untouched planet in an Untouched system, surely you realize that it would be very easy to leverage Earth into becoming a neutral power, correct?" I prompted. 

<Okay…?> the Andalite said, sounding unsure. Another point for 'not an Andalite.'

"Well, the easiest way to do that without the Yeerk Empire taking over is to provide goods and services to Earth's neighbors. Turn this system into a neutral manufacturing system, what with its untapped resources and large population and all. We are working on neural interface, which will initially undercut the Empire's main reason for expansion: acquisition of new hosts. With mechanical bodies that will be superior to biological hosts, invading the planet that developed the technology is like poisoning their own well, and would anger all the neighboring civilizations. This is the best way to gain Earth's autonomy and free trillions of hosts, not to mention the technology should be applicable to Andalites, Hawjabrawn, Kelbrids, and more," I said, pitching our plan as simply as possible. 

<So you're attempting to  _ arm _ the Yeerk Empire,> she incorrectly surmised. 

"No, no, no," Connor cut in. "It's me, human guy. No, we're not  _ arming _ anyone. We're taking the first steps in a revolution here, saving Earth peacefully with little to no bloodshed. It's the beginning of a technological singularity. Andalites and everyone else will benefit equally. How would you like to be immortal?"

<How exactly will this make you immortal?> she asked, clearly not following. I admit, the idea of a technological singularity wasn't common in the galaxy, but when it was laid out like this, even a dull Yeerk would be able to figure out what we meant.

"Oh my God, Isilla, are they  _ all _ gonna be like this?" Connor asked out loud, frustrated at her inability to put two and two together. 

<Hey!> she barked. <Answer the fucking question!>

Thar was the nail in the coffin for me. Even a particularly poorly-educated Yeerk would have been able to follow our logic, and Andalites were begrudgingly held to be even smarter. This person was using Human profanity naturally, too. Everything in Connor's brain besides was reading her as a human. 

<I doubt she is an Andalite. It would make more sense if she was a human,> I concluded. <She sounds too human.>

<Should we let her know that we know?> Connor asked. 

<Your choice,> I said. Connor didn't reply right away. 

"Okay, look," he sighed. "If you can read inputs from neurons, you can then emulate those readings on a computer. If you slowly replace pieces of a brain with computer hardware that outputs those same readings when responding to the same stimuli, you can transfer your consciousness from cells to transistors. Sound reasonable?"

<I guess. And then you just keep the hardware running for as long as you want,> she surmised, and I could feel Connor's relief at getting through to her. 

"I'm honestly more surprised you aliens haven't all gone that way already. I found it strange that only one machine intelligence exists. You haven't heard of Crayak, have you?" Connor prompted. 

<How the hell do  _ you _ know about him?> the bird asked suspiciously.

"I have a Yeerk. How would you expect me not to know about him?" Connor asked, incredulous. "Isilla says that Crayak is in pretty much every Galactic History class in every civilization. I figured a periodic holocaust of all intelligent life would be something on the forefront of most people's minds."

<Periodic holocaust…? Well, I mean,  _ yeah,  _ of course, but, you know, I wasn't a great student…> she said, clearly grasping at straws.

<I suppose whatever Andalites gave her the morphing technology didn't bother explaining much,> I guessed. Connor sighed heavily, internally and out loud.

"Lady, you  _ suck _ at pretending to be an Andalite," he groaned. 

<Well don't beat her over the head with it! She still did  _ this _ to you,> I reminded him, pulling his attention to his wounded side. 

<W-what are you talking about? Just wait until my  _ shorm _ gets here, he can explain things far better than I can, so just--> she sputtered, but Connor cut her off. 

"You're telling me you couldn't follow what we were doing? The implications? You don't know squat about astrophysics, and you're surprised we even know who Crayak is? Aren't Andalites supposed to be super smart?" Connor listed, counting each point on his fingers. "Look, I really don't care, but don't treat me like I can't tell a member of my own species when I'm talking to one."

The bird--or human, I suppose--looked away from us and said nothing. Connor chose not to break the silence, having said what he needed to. We sat in awkward silence for a few moments, and the bird sighed heavily in our minds. 

<Look, can you just pretend I'm an Andalite? The others will be pissed if they find out I gave myself away, especially after doing  _ that _ to you,> she said shakily, flapping down to the back of Connor's desk chair so we could see her better. She knew she had her back to the wall on that topic, and perhaps her overt guilt drive her to 

"Alright, on one condition," Connor agreed. 

<What's the condition?> she asked. 

"Tell us how you got the ability to morph,> he said simply. I had to admit, I was very curious. Were the Andalites creating an army of morph-capable humans?

<I can't,> she said, sounding as if she was biting her lip, even though hawks don't have one. Thoughtspeech was weird like that. 

"You clearly got it from an Andalite, you had to have. So, are they still around?" I prodded. 

<Never mind, just expose me. I don't care. I'm not going to betray anyone's trust,> she said stoically. 

<Well shit, that didn't work,> Connor mused. <Any other ideas?>

<I mean, if she's not going to tell us, it's still better that we keep this information to ourselves. It'll give us an advantage when dealing with the other ones, since she mentioned 'everyone.' We can figure out if any of them are Andalites or not,> I reasoned. 

"Well, it was worth a shot," Connor sighed nonchalantly, tacitly agreeing with me. "I'll keep it quiet."

<Thank you,> she said, sounding relieved. <The rest  _ are _ Andalites, I'm the only human,> she admitted. 

"So what, are you a diversity hire?" Connor joked. She looked away again. 

<No,> she muttered. <Just keep it quiet.>

It was a little while before the others arrived. Two more birds in through the window, one of them carrying a large (human) medical bag. One of them demorphed around a corner, and the other right in front of us. The one who demorphed in front of us reminded me of Visser 3, but younger. His arms and tail weren't as muscular, and his form had a lithe spring to it that the Visser's older host didn't have. The second Andalite came around the corner, looking much the same as the first. Even with the improvements to morphing technology, the erasure of the limit and the ability to morph one body into another without demorphing, I surmised that not all of them had access to this technology. Perhaps it was only the girl who stayed as a bird. 

<Sup bra, are you well?> the straight-to-demorphing one asked. Connor stifled a snicker. 

<Ha, I'm willing to bet this one is real. He sounds like an alien trying to sound human,> Connor tittered. I agreed. 

"Na way 'bra', I'm feeling pretty gnarly," he replied jokingly, gesturing to his side.

<Oh, yeah, just a heads up… He  _ hates _ Yeerks,> hawk girl said to us, presumably privately. <I made him promise to be on his best behavior, but just watch out, okay?>

<I'm going to examine your side, if that's alright with you,> the morph-around-the-corner one asked. Connor nodded and pulled up his shirt, grunting as the being's delicate fingers pulled off the medical tape, and several hairs with it. 

"Holt shit, what the hell!? You didn't bother with anesthetic?" he yelped when she pulled the gauze out from the wound, causing immense pain as it grudgingly unstuck itself from the flesh. I did my best to distract him from the pain, but it happened too fast for me to be much help. 

<Sorry, I didn't have any to spare,> medical-Andalite apologized, genuine regret in her voice. <I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?>

<I always freaking hate it when people say that,> Connor thought. 

"Fuck it, good news first," he acquiesced. 

<The good news is that your wound is completely free of infection,> she revealed. 

<Oh, yes, when an Andalite morphs, the morphed body's mass is devoid of bacteria, viruses, prions, spores, molds, fungus, parasites--> probably-real Andalite said. 

< _ Aximili!> _ medical Andalite said sharply, giving him a stern look with her stalk eyes. <Are you forgetting we haven't determined if they can be trusted?>

"Jeez guys _ , thanks _ ," Connor said sarcastically. "What's the bad news, then?" 

<As I said, your wound is uninfected, and I unfortunately was unable to source any topical anesthetic… so I'm going to have to stitch you up without them,> medical Andalite said, a cringing tone in her voice. 

"God damn it! How many am I going to--!?> Connor complained, glancing down at his side. New antiseptic was being applied by a seven-fingered hand stuffed into a human latex glove, which caused a stinging ache, and the old bandaging was vile. It was all black, red, and yellow, all blood and pus. I helped him suppress a gag reflex. 

<Upwards of ninety, based on experience,> she said apologetically. <I'm sorry.>

Connor turned his gaze towards the one confirmed human and scowled at her. 

"Thanks a lot,  _ Tweety _ ," he spat sardonically. 

<Leave her alone,> probably-real Andalite---Aximili--jumped in. 

<No, no, he's right. I wish I could undo it. I'm really sorry,> she said helplessly, and while I completely understood Connor's contempt, I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her. Nothing was worse than being continuously berated for a single mistake. I prodded Connor for control, and he acquiesced. I quickly changed the topic as medical Andalite threaded a curved needle. 

"Miss Andalite, wouldn't it be a fitting punishment for your mistake to morph me now, and shield Connor from the pain while you inspect his memories?" I suggested. 

<Oh yeah! I forgot you guys can do that,> Connor said, clearly relieved. I saw that he would insist on me not sharing the burden, but for the one who had wounded him? He had no problem with that at all. 

<Yes, please let me,> she replied, fluttering over to land on the ground next to us. <That's more than fair.>

I asked Aximili to place me in my portable Kadrona once I had vacated Connor's head, but he refused to touch me.

< _ Really _ , Ax? You're such a priss,> medical-Andalite commented disapprovingly as she gingerly lifted me up and walked me over to the device, where I sat further away than I was comfortable with. I'm a Yeerk, I can't do much by myself and I was completely at their mercy, but it still made me uneasy to have them between me and my elishkadrona. 

Bird-human waddled over and touched me with wickedly-sharp feet, not unlike that of a Hork-bajir. 

<Thank you for letting me do this,> she said gently as a wave of lackadaisical calm fell over me. <Thank you for helping me make this right.>

<Please treat him well. Have you morphed a Yeerk before?> I asked, once recovered. 

<No,> she replied. 

<It won't be hard for you to find information. It's intuitive and instinctual. You will know what you want to know, but please do me a favor…> I said privately. 

<What?> she pressed. 

<Just… He has some things he doesn't like me to see, and I'm certain he wouldn't be thrilled by you seeing them either,> I admitted. <Just respect his privacy. Avoid anything to do with Kathy Ireland,> I instructed.

<W-What? I'm not gonna go diving for that kind of thing!> she exclaimed, sounding scandalized. 

"I'm waitiiiing…!~" Connor called impatiently. 

<Fine,> she spat, and fluttered back over next to Connor. She began to change, was gently picked up by medical-Andalite, and squirmed into Connor's ear.

I hoped she knew what she was doing. 

  
  



	10. Toby III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for getting sidetracked. I plan to keep working on this, though updates will be slow as I'm working on other fics on other accounts as well. Thank you all for your patience.

Being a Yeerk was strange.  _ Really _ strange. 

We spent years fighting these things, and they always seemed like such evil little shits, controlling Taxxons and Hork-bajir and whatnot, but I can kind of understand now. Their senses  _ suck _ . They can  _ barely _ see via movement, and hearing is incredibly muffled. That's compared to a baseline human, so coming from my usual experience of raptor senses, I felt like I was locked in a box. Their sense of touch is practically non-existent, and I could barely squirm into Cassie's hand for her to help me into Connor the Controller. I can sort of see why they would be desperate for hosts. They're like the lame sidekick of alien races; Andalites and Hork-bajir have blades, Taxxons have claws and can eat through solid rock. Even Helmacrons have it better than these guys. 

I instinctively wrapped around Connor's brain and settled in. 

<You in?> I heard him think. Like thoughtspeak, but different. More  _ complete _ , full;  _ natural.  _ Like if speech also carried conceptual synonyms as subtext. I was getting a direct thought, not conscious telepathy. 

<Yeah, I am. I'm going to use your mouth,> I stated. He agreed. 

"Hey, pinch him. I want to see how to take away the pain," I said. It hadn't occurred to me that talking was going to be done with his voice, as stupid and obvious as that sounds. It was way deeper than my old one, which I had never been a fan of, so I decided to stick to thoughtspeak. Cassie gently pinched him on the arm. I felt it, but so did he. It took a few more tries before I got it down, and Connor wasn't feeling anything. The ache in his side was pretty intense, but I'd suffered worse. I always morphed it away, but still, I've had my guts hanging out a few times. 

<Ready,> I signalled. I caught sight of Ax, who was somewhere between worried and disdainful. I knew how he felt about Yeerks, but we've both morphed things we hated before. Roaches, slugs, sponges, even freaking  _ cows _ that one time. He would get over it. 

<I'm starting now,> Cassie informed me, and I grit Connor's teeth, bearing the pain as she started stitching the wound up. I deserved the pain, and probably worse. I would have taken any level of pain over guilt and shame. It was my burden to bear. 

<So, when were you infested?> I asked. I figured it was better to ask him things and then check if they were true or not, the last thing I wanted to do was violate his budding trust by digging through irrelevant and embarrassing parts of his life. 

<A little over a week ago,> he replied, flashing me a memory of being dragged down the stairs to the Yeerk pool. It was wild, seeing someone else's memory like that. It was like your own mental image, but it was someone else's. You were  _ there _ in 3-D space, but the memory played though like a movie clip sped up a few times, and you instantly understood  _ all of it.  _ I hate to admit it, but it was  _ cool _ . Maybe the Yeerks didn't have it as bad as I thought. 

<I'm going to move forward from there,> I told him, combing through the day. The pain melted into the back of my mind as I saw everything he told me before, but in exquisite and complete detail. There was so much information hitting me at once that it felt like my brain was hit by a truck. I was expecting some kind of synchronity, like watching a TV show or transferring a file on a computer. There  _ definitely _ wasn't a progress bar with this information, and I got more than just events. 

I got a sense of them both, with Connor coming off as introverted yet prideful, his ego swelling to near-arrogance thanks to the Yeerk's--Isilla's--praise. It wasn't charming, reminding me of the hubris of Odysseus at his worst. Isilla was open-handed with compliments, but infantilized Connor, subconsciously viewing the man as a precocious but intelligent child. The Yeerk also thought highly of its own intellect, and I felt shades of Ax from both of them, back before Ax started thinking of us as friends rather than just 'silly primitives.' They were timid when they were alone, but became insufferable when they were together. They weren't  _ bad _ , just…  _ annoyingly clever.  _ You know that one kid in the class who was way smarter than everyone else, and they knew it? Teacher's pet type? That was them. They weren't  _ smug _ about it per se, but they were definitely off in their own little world of numbers and jargon that meant nothing to me, and oh boy did they feel good for being able to live there. 

I relayed the chronology to Ax and Cassie as I parsed it. I told them about how Connor was taken against his will, how his Yeerk was as big of a tech-geek as he was, like Ax-tier at  _ least.  _ I explained to them how these two were sold out by Aslen, escaped Visser 3, complete with Connor's (admittedly masterful) ad hoc bluff, and breaking out his pimp hand on a Taxxon. Ax enjoyed that part. 

<Visser 3 must have been positively apoplectic that night!> he gleefully giggled to all of us except the outsiders. <Embarrassed by Marco in a fight, lost his Andalite prize,  _ and _ he lost his traitor!>

<Things  _ did _ work out for the best, I suppose> Cassie agreed. 

I pressed on, and when I got to the technical details of their plan, I privately asked Ax a few questions.

<So, he said the Solar system is special, somehow? Untouched by Elder Species? Does that make sense to you?> I asked him. 

<Yes, that's why the Yeerks are invading; it would be quite the jewel in their crown to have such resources, not to mention humanity's truly absurd numbers,> he confirmed. 

<But his memory suggests that other species would be pissed if they found out someone was invading us,> I continued. <What's the deal? Don't they know?>

<No, the Yeerks stubbornly refuse to use Z-space transmitters here, for fear of being exposed. By normal light speed, it would take a signal several centuries to reach the nearest populated system,> he revealed. 

<Wait, wait wait, you  _ built _ one of those things, once,> I pointed out, growing angry. Had Ax been keeping an easy way out of the war from us?

<Well, that required one of the most powerful radio transmitters your species has ever built, Toby,> he sniffed irritably. <Besides, my shorm, you would be inviting a war to take place on Earth. Would you truly wish to see the Kelbrids, Anati, Hawjabrawn, Andalites, Yeerks, and more all fighting over the right to annex your system? This Yeerk invasion is an  _ afterthought _ , a video game side-quest designed to keep Visser 3 busy. Our fleet was only here because Elfangor had a vested interest in keeping Earth safe, and he sacrificed much of his credibility to requisition a covert mission. As far as the galaxy is concerned, you are peacefully existing in pre-contact bliss. You would not like to see  _ real _ war.>

Real war?  _ Real war?  _ I reiterate, I've had my guts hanging out. I was about to really let Ax have it when I saw that he was right. A third-hand memory from Isilla showed me exactly what would happen if other species got involved. It would be like the ninja turtles going at a pizza: everyone would be fighting over a slice of the pie. It would be curtains for our agency as a species, and would almost certainly spark the galactic equivalent of World War II. I saw Isilla's memories; whole planets would be turned into radioactive hellscapes, and worse. You know what kind of tortures we inflict on our own species? It turns out we're an extraordinarily gentle species. I cannot describe what these aliens have done to each other in the past. Don't bother trying to imagine. You wouldn't even come close. 

<Sorry, I see what you mean now,> I muttered sheepishly to Ax. It's rare for me to get upset with him, and I felt awful. He was smart, he knew what he was doing, and most importantly, I trusted him. 

<Think nothing of it. Parsing this information is why I'm here, after all,> he reminded me, his tone warmer than before. 

I explained to them what Connor understood of the hardware he was cobbling together, and Ax could scarcely contain his laughter. 

<I must admit, their course of action makes sense, and they are doing well with Human hardware,> he chuckled, his stalk eyes bobbing in mirth. <But this many processors stuck together just to reach a fraction of the power of a modern crystal lattice quantum processor? It's like building a spaceship out of wood! _ > _ he cackled. 

<Yeah, yeah,> I muttered. Ax was my best friend, but he was a nerd _.  _ A  _ huge _ nerd. If Connor wasn't a controller and Isilla wasn't a Yeerk, I would think Ax would get along quite well with them. But, as much as I abhor Yeerks, Ax is worse. He's like the Imperial Grand Wizard of Yeerk-hate. He's never going to budge. Even  _ Cassie _ gave up trying to change that. 

<So do you think the technology they're talking about is possible?> I asked. Controlling a robot with nothing but brainwaves seemed pretty far-fetched, but then again, one of them  _ was _ an alien. 

<It won't be easy, but it should be physically possible. Yeerks are mostly neural tissue anyway, so it wouldn't require any invasive surgery like it would with most other species,> he replied thoughtfully, but then his tone turned somber. <It's not something the galaxy at large has spent much time working towards. It can open some doors that can't be closed,> he said gravely. 

<Like what?>

<The elimination of all species in favor of synthetics, the complete destruction of life as we know it, and immortality,> he provided. 

<That last one doesn't sound so bad,> I said, finding myself defending their idea. 

<Only if you want to see infinite competition for finite resources. What purpose is there to life if it goes on forever? Why improve the world? Nothing would get done. Human sacrifice, dogs and cats sniffing each other; massive stereos!> he said emphatically. 

<That's… That's not the line, Ax,> I groaned, realizing too much time alone with Marco was turning him into a monster. A monster who was unable to tell that Marco-brand dorkiness was not something to strive for. 

<Do you see my point, though?> he asked dryly, clearly unhappy I didn't find his joke funny. 

<Well, yeah, kinda. But it'll get the Yeerks off Earth, right? It's not going to lead to that stuff  _ right away, _ > I prompted. 

<Yes,> he said impatiently. <But-->

<Then that's all I need to know for now, Ax.>

I searched through their week in the hideout, culminating in me finding them. I cut Connor a lot slower than I remembered, and my sadism caused me to recoil in shame. After that, they seemed to be knocked down a few pegs, hubris all but gone. Up until then, why wouldn't they have been confident? They had been in the  _ zone: _ escaping Visser 3, avoiding Yeerk capture, working on a plan that would single-handedly save the planet. Thanks to me, they recognized how powerless they really were, and acutely realized their mortality. At least  _ something _ good had come of my mistake. I wouldn't have done it again, but they had grown up fast, like I had to. Like we  _ all _ had to. 

<Well, what's the verdict, am I clean?> Connor cut in, giving me the mental equivalent of a poke as Cassie finished up with the stitches. 

<Uh, yeah, I think so. I'll have to talk it over with the rest of us, but you're telling the truth, at least,> I responded, not really sure where this left us. Sure, I had practically killed the guy, but it didn't look like he was going to be any direct help to the Animorphs. He also wasn't going to get in our way either, and with our limited expertise, we wouldn't be much help to  _ them _ . Well, maybe Ax would be, if he was so inclined. 

<Well, if you're done, can you get out of my head? I've had enough of you poking around in my body, thanks, as much fun as your little game of Operation was,> he quipped, and I agreed. I slithered out of his head into Cassie's waiting hand, and began to demorph. 

<How did it go?> Isilla asked from his suitcase Yeerk pool. 

< _ I  _ trust you, now, at least,> I admitted. They held no ill will towards us, their motives aligned with ours, and they kept their mouths shut about them knowing I'm Human. It wasn't the end of the world that they knew, anyway; Aftran, Mr. Tidwell, Esplin the Lesser… They all knew we were humans who could morph. We could pretty much forget about these two and it wouldn't have much effect either way. 

"Well, as long as we aren't going to be taken out into the desert and done up cartel-style, I can call that win," Connor, said, sitting up and shrugging. He winced in pain, and Cassie held out a hand to him to motion him back down onto the mat. 

<You need to take it easy,> she said firmly. <You shouldn't be up and about for at least another day.>

<Is that advice for tissue recovery, or simply for pain management? I would be more than happy to mitigate the pain if it was the latter,> Isilla offered. Cassie's stalk eyes swayed in exasperation. 

<Tissue healing. I'll be back tomorrow to reapply antiseptic, and I can bring you some proper nutrition,> she said, skeptically looking down at the stacks of empty ramen containers. < _ Don't _ push yourself.>

"Yeah, whatever," Connor croaked from the mat. He was just feeling the stitches for the first time, and I knew from experience they were not fun. "Can you grab Isilla for me?" he asked. 

I was a hawk again, and Cassie was still putting things away in her medical bag. I was going to tell Connor to wait a second, but Ax surprised me by gingerly sliding the suitcase pool over to Connor with the back of his tail blade. I gave him a look, and he did the stalk-eye equivalent of a shrug. Maybe he'd been having a side conversation with Isilla. Maybe he'd been pumping him for more information, or worse _ debating.  _

<We will explain the situation to our Prince,> he said. <I expect he will be pleased you two are not a threat.>

<Yeah, he's a reasonable guy. You guys are safe,> I posited as Connor held Isilla up to his ear. Cassie agreed, and she trotted around the corner to demorph and morph into a bird. 

"Thanks, I guess," he shrugged, wincing. "See you around."

I held the plastic sheet open for Ax and Cassie, and they made their way out the shattered window. I chose not to leave. I hunted not long before they woke up, and it wasn't my turn to do recon until five. In truth, I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt like there was something chaining me here. It was probably my guilt, but also a sort of desire to ensure nothing happened to them. Just watching after them, not  _ watching _ them. 

<Wait, Toby, aren't you coming back with us? I doubt he needs to be  _ watched.  _ You said everything was copacetic, right?> Cassie asked, once she noticed I wasn't following. 

<No, I just… You know how you talk about feeling a sense of duty to heal the animals at the farm?> I said, trying to find a way to describe what I meant. 

<Yeah,> she replied knowingly. <You still feel bad?>

<Well yeah, I feel _awful_ , but it's more than that,> I explained. <It's like… It's like seeing a box full of kittens on the street. I can't just _leave_ _them._ What if something happens? If controllers tracked them here or something?>

<I was under the impression they did a thorough job erasing themselves,> Ax posited. 

<What else do I have going on?> I said, giving the thoughtspeak equivalent of a shrug.

<Well, will you still perform reconnaissance later today?> he asked. 

<If she brings them food, then I'll take Toby's recon shifts for the week,> Cassie answered for me. I knew what she was doing, trying to let me work through my guilt without interference. Yesterday she had bounced between pissed off and cold, but today she seemed to acknowledge that I wanted to do my utmost to undo my mistake. I was grateful for her social acumen; somehow she knew things about my emotions that I didn't realize until she told me. Power of heart, I'm telling you. 

<Deal,> I said. <Leave Monday open, Ax.>

<Of course, my shorm,> he happily agreed. I still missed him. Hell, I missed Marco too, but even  _ I _ have the grace not to third-wheel. 

"Are you still here?" Connor asked, looking over his shoulder as the Ax and Cassie drifted away. After digging through his--and by extension, Isilla's--memories, it had become easy to tell who was talking at any given time. Their tones were quite different, with Isilla being more upbeat and formal, and Connor being more casual, skeptical, and prone to sudden shifts in mood. 

<Yes,> I replied. 

"What's the deal, you still have to play prison guard?" he asked. 

<No, I'm not keeping you two here or anything, I just don't feel right leaving you alone right now. You know too much. If you get captured, it's game over for  _ all _ of us,> I replied, surprising myself by spontaneously coming up with a solid reason beyond the ethereal 'duty.'

"That makes sense," Isilla agreed. 

"If you're going to be hanging out, you might as well get comfortable. I imagine being indoors isn't very comfortable as a bird-of-prey like that," Connor offered. 

<I have a lot of practice,> I replied. Years of sitting on the Toby Inside Perch watching TV and reading with Ax had inured hawkbrain to being inside. Still, even if my original reason I swung by the hideout was to get more used to my human morph, I wasn't about to show them my face. <I'm fine.>

"You do you, cockatoo," Connor intoned. "You spent like an hour going through my head, can you tell us your name at least?" 

_ That _ I  _ was _ comfortable with. Sure, some kid called  _ Tobias _ had gone missing a few years ago, but nobody was looking for a Toby. I didn't have a social security number, I wasn't in the phonebook, and heck, they already knew I'm human. 

<You can call me Toby,> I replied.

"Nice to get acquainted. You give a hell of a handshake," he said, laughing at his own joke. 

<Look, I don't know how else I can convey how sorry-->

"Connor is just using humor to downplay the incident. With a distinct lack of grace, I might add," Isilla interjected dryly. 

"Yeah, I mean, you saved me after, so it's alright," Connor agreed, rolling onto his back and spreading his arms wide. "As long as I'm not on the Andalite shit-list, I'm okay."

He didn't say anything after that, and after a few minutes, I heard him softly snoring. He must have been exhausted. Even with my infusion, he had still lost a lot of blood. He probably hadn't eaten decent food in a while, either. I looked around the spartan apartment. There wasn't a wastebasket, so they seemed to have settled on a far corner as some kind of trash midden. There was a pile of empty ramen cups, some moldy-looking cans of vegetables, and empty meat packaging. It reminded me of how things used to be at my relatives'. I wasn't going to stand for that. 

I quietly hopped over to the duffel bag we had stored here ages ago. Along with clothing, there was a little bit of money (thank you, Ax), and I gingerly unzipped the bag with my beak. I pulled out some Rachel's clothes and a few bills, and dragged them silently to the staircase around the corner from the room where Connor and Isilla sleeping. I double-checked to make sure they were asleep, and morphed into my human body. I got dressed hastily, grateful that underwear stuck with you when you morphed. I did  _ not _ relish the idea of using old bras or boxers in the bag. Like I said, we stashed that stuff there  _ age _ s ago. 

The clothes were a little big on me, still, so I had to pull up my jeans every now and then as I walked down to the nearest store. I'm not great at cooking, but learned how to feed myself as a kid. Half the time whatever relatives I was staying with didn't even care whether I had dinner or not, so I learned how to make a few things. It probably wasn't the  _ right _ way, but I didn't have to go to bed hungry, at least. Cassie had said they needed nutrition, and while my first thought was of chicken soup, they had been eating canned food and instant noodles for a while. I resolved to get something with meat and vegetables. 

There wasn't much money in the bag, but I was able to get a tin of peanuts, a can of olives, and some Swiss cheese and turkey from the deli. I got a four-pack of eggs, and figured that covered proteins. As for vegetables, I was at a loss. I thought a tomato would be good, since the color and juiciness reminded me of a nice juicy mole, but I wasn't sure what you could do with a tomato by itself. I ended up getting an avocado, since they were fatty, and still kind of a vegetable. Once I snagged them a Gatorade, I got in line to pay. 

"Did you find everything alright today, miss?" the cashier asked. I was taken aback for a moment before I remembered. 

Huh, 'miss.' I was going to have to get used to that. 

"Uh, yeah, thanks," I muttered, avoiding eye contact. 

On the walk back, I noticed something weird. I was in a relatively urban part of Santa Monica, so there were a decent number of people walking down the sidewalk or waiting at bus stops. It felt kind of like they were watching me, almost sizing me up, but it was just the men. I didn't like it. I felt  _ exposed _ somehow, like a bird on its back. Nobody  _ stared _ , but it seemed people were more interested in looking at me than they ever had been before. I couldn't tell if I was pretty or ugly, probably somewhere in the middle, so I wondered how  _ very-pretty _ Rachel felt. Maybe she was used to it. Heck, maybe she even  _ liked _ it. Some people draw confidence from that sort of thing, but it just made me want to look at the ground and walk faster. 

I entered through the bottom door, creeping up the stairs with the grocery bag to see if the boys were still asleep or not. We hadn't known them for very long, and I wasn't sure their situation was as stable as they thought it was. Letting them know my name was one thing, but my face was another. Loose ends kill friends. Luckily, they were still snoring away, and I quietly placed the food next to them, cleaned up their trash pile, then scurried back around the corner to demorph. Once I was a hawk again, I set about getting my  _ own _ food. We were close enough to the shore that the hawk was out of its element, but there was a park not too far away and I made do with a lean squirrel. You would think squirrels would be good, since they look big, but they're really not. They're smaller than rats, actually. Most of what you see is fur, just fluffy fur that gets stuck in your beak and throat and makes you have to hack up pellets of it and-- _ blegh. _ But it's food. 

When I flew back through the window, my charges were busy struggling to slice open the avocado. 

<Oh,> I greeted. <Hey. I didn't expect you two to be up for a while.>

"Thank you for the food, Toby," Isilla replied, and I assumed it was him who struggled to get the knife into the skin. 

<Slice diagonally,> I instructed, and the blade went in, smooth as butter. I guided them through the rest of the process, bisecting it, twisting out the core, scoring the inside, and scooping the chunks out with a spoon. 

"Thanks, I've never had one of these before," one of them admitted. 

<Connor hasn't, or Isilla?> I prompted. 

"Uh, neither," Connor clarified, wrapping the avocado and some cheese in a slice of turkey. 

<They're not popular. They're kind of a SoCal thing,> I explained. <Are you from around here?>

"No," one of them said through a mouth full of wrap, "I'm from another planet, actually."

I gave a single laugh despite myself, and they grinned at me, still chewing. 

"What's with the variety, by the way? There's a bunch of stuff here," Connor asked, poking around in the bag.

<I wasn't sure how hungry you'd be, so I got nutritious stuff you could graze on,> I explained. <You shouldn't eat too much after losing all that blood, you'll probably crash again.>

"Noted," one of them replied. "How did people at the food place respond to a bird going shopping?" 

I stared at him for a moment, not sure if the one talking was trying to make a joke, or seriously thought I went shopping  _ en faucon. _ It was a serious toss-up. They were like Ax, smart, but weird. On a different wavelength. 

<I morphed human, dude,> I replied, half-laughing in case they  _ were _ joking. 

"Yeah, by the way, you can demorph if you want. I mean, you read my thoughts, right?" Connor offered. "I'm not going to sell you out or anything."

<I'm aware. I just spend a lot of time morphed,> I said, another half-truth. He was under the impression my restored morphing ability was some kind of new generation of morphing tech. They figured out I was human, but what else could they figure out? I wasn't sure if I was good at acting like a girl yet, you know, body language and stuff? And I sure as heck wasn't going to morph Tobias again. <It's just for all our safety.>

"Yeah, yeah, that makes sense. Sorry about that," he apologized sheepishly. "How is it being a bird?" 

<It's okay,> I said honestly. A few weeks ago I would have said it was great, but it turns out being your original species is pretty cool too, when your brain and body match up. <Flying is cool.>

"I bet," he replied, a twinge of envy in his voice. He took another bite, and washed it down with a handful of peanuts. "But if you're going to be hanging out here, why bother with a bird? You can morph  _ me _ if you want."

<What? Ew, no!> I said instinctively. He looked like a kicked puppy, and I scrambled to explain. <I mean, uh, you're nice and all, but I prefer to stay as  _ me _ when I'm human, thanks.>

"I can get behind that," he nodded thoughtfully, reaching into the grocery bag and taking out the small carton of eggs. "How do I make these?" 

<However you want. They're still pure protein either way,> I explained offhandedly. <Not as good as fresh eggs in the nest, but they'll do.>

"How much time **do** you spend as a bird?" Isilla asked in surprise, pausing while pouring bottled water into a pot. 

<More than you,> I replied. 

They ate and slept, and I hunted again. That was how things were for the next two days, with them slathering the medication Cassie left on the stitching. It was starting to look better, and I chanced making the rounds to the other Animorphs. I was expecting Jake to have come to some kind of conclusion on what we were supposed to do with our new 'friends,' but he hadn't sent any word. I caught a nice thermal for the trip, and landed in a tree in his yard in the late afternoon. 

<Hey, Jake, you around?> I called stiffly. After a thirty seconds or so, I heard a door open on the other side of the house, and flew into his backyard. 

"Is this important?" he asked quietly, yet with a tense alertness in his voice as he leaned on the railing of his deck. It might sound rude or dismissive, but that was how we covertly asked if what was about to follow was about the war, just in case we were being overheard. 

<Yeah. Or, well, I don't know,  _ maybe,> _ I quibbled. <What are we doing about the controller at the hideout?>

"Oh, yeah, Cassie told me you'd be playing Florence Nightingale," he said, struggling to hide his smirk at the avian entendré. 

<Well?> I asked, ignoring it. 

"Well, Ax said their story checks out, and you didn't say anything about them being a problem for us," Jake shrugged. "We don't really have to  _ do _ anything with them."

<So you don't want to, like,  _ debrief _ them, or something?> I asked. 

Jake gave me a funny look, somewhere between confusion and suspicion. 

"Why does it matter to you?" he prodded. 

<I'm just worried they're going to start asking questions, you know?> I stressed, agonizing over whether I should voice my real concern: the fact that they knew not all of us were Andalites. 

"What questions would they be asking? They think we're you-know-what's, right?" Jake replied. 

<Well… They kind of know not  _ all _ of us are Andalites,> I muttered. <They figured me out.>

"What? I thought you were Ax's space-BFF or something, shouldn't you be able to fake it better than any of us?" Jake groaned. 

<Yeah, well, sorry I'm not good enough to maintain a yeerk-proof masquerade when my Andalite sample size is  _ one,  _ and besides, Ax acts human enough to freaking  _ date one of us,> _ I protested. 

"What the hell? You spent your whole life acting like Mork and  _ now _ you're suddenly Mindy?" he balked. 

<Square peg, round hole, and Ax is about as good of an alien role model as Alf,> I shot back. 

Jake rubbed his eyes in annoyance. 

"Fuck, man, this complicates things. How long have they known? How much have they figured out?" he asked in resignation. 

<Just that I'm a human. When I was in Connor's head he was sixty-forty on Cassie being an Andalite and was dead convinced Ax was,> I recounted. 

"Oh, wait, it's just you?" he said, looking up at me. 

<Yeah, so?>

He visibly relaxed. 

"Well then,  _ you  _ deal with it. It's  _ your _ identity you're protecting. He doesn't know anything about  _ us _ , and we aren't going to interact with them, so just clean up your own mess, Toby," he said with finality. "Cassie told me you trusted them, so you probably don't have anything to worry about," he added, more gently. 

I didn't have a response, so I sat in awkward silence until he went back inside. My next stop was Cassie's. She was busy watering the animals when I got there, but was glad for the reprieve. 

"How are they doing?" she asked. 

<Physically? Good, I think. They've been putting the ointments on. Mentally, I think they're pretty bored. It hurts for them to sit upright, so they're stalled on their plan,> I relayed from the rafters. 

"The pain'll go away by the end of the week," she informed me. "Speaking of, how are  _ you _ doing?" 

<Alright, I guess. I'm getting over it. They're brats sometimes, so that helps my guilt over preemptively shish-kabobing them,> I joked. 

"Good," she chuckled, sitting down on a hay bale. "I wanted to say this the other day, but I couldn't figure out how."

<Uh oh, what?> I asked, bracing myself for a lecture on,  _ eugh _ ,  **_ethics._ **

"I'm sorry I got upset as I did, and said those things in front of the others. You were probably beating yourself up already, but I was angry. I'm sorry," she admitted, deliberating over her words. "Jake told me I was overboard, so just… Sorry."

<Oh, um…> I trailed off. I've never been good at being apologized to. <Don't worry about it, I guess. I kinda needed a kick in the tail feathers, and things are working out okay.>

"Try to keep your anger under control, please? I know you're isolated right now, but--" 

<Isolated?> I interrupted. <I've been spending every waking minute with Merry and Pippin out in San'a Monica, and I'm hanging out with Ax on Monday.>

"Isolated from  _ friends _ , Toby. I'm glad you're going to see Ax, but remember what we talked about about meeting some new people?" she reminded me, twisting the hose valve closed. 

<Sorry for getting  _ sidetracked,> _ I said, more sardonically than I wanted to. Cassie took it for what it was, but gave me a pensive look. 

"Why are you spending so much time over there anyway?" Cassie asked coyly. "We could take shifts if they really need to be in our care."

<Nah, I've got it,> I said dismissively. My mistake, my job. Cassie looked at me like I was transparent, and rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

"Remember those baby skunks?" she asked. I groaned internally. I didn't like it when she brought the skunk incident up. 

<Yeah,> I sighed resignedly. 

"You ate one, but then you looked out for the rest of them," Cassie recounted. 

I wanted to reply, but I figured 'Only because you browbeat me and made me feel terrible' was not a good response, so I let her continue. 

"It's been a few years and my parents say the skunk population in that neck of the woods is higher than it's ever been. You took a bad thing you did, and turned it into a good thing. Just think about that," she said cryptically as she walked inside, signaling the end of the conversation. 

It was a logic-trap, clearly, and it was grating. She wanted me to think that Connor and Isilla were the skunks in this scenario, and I could go from goring them to "meeting new people." I wanted to meet people who were normal, but if they were all I got… then whatever. They weren't my kind of people, but at least they were the only people on Earth who were privy to the invasion, but didn't know  _ Tobias.  _ Probably the best people you can find if you were just trying to be more social. I took off, annoyed at how right she was. 

I wasn't far from Ax's scoop, so I figured I'd swoop in and say hi. He and Marco were snuggled up to each other on Ax's couch, watching a cartoon I'd never seen. 

<What's happening with my favorite gay alien? And also Ax?> I asked mirthfully, feeling a sense of familiarity warm me as I circled around the clearing where we live. 

<Marco is only an alien to me,> Ax replied without missing a beat. He makes my jokes fall flat on purpose sometimes when he pretends to be worse at understanding than he is. 

<Trust me, to me, _all_ _of you_ _people_ are aliens,> I posited, swooping through the window to alight on the Toby Inside Perch. 

"M'yeah, same," Macro agreed with mock-derision, but his joking tone abated. "What's up, Toblerone? What's it like to be the school nurse?" 

<I was in the neighborhood, figured I'd come say hi,> I said, and it was true this time. <Besides, those two are insufferable to be around for more than a day or so. They're just…> I trailed off, searching for the words. 

<The human seemed average, and, despite being evil, the Yeerk made intelligent conversation, which was refreshing,> Ax posited, looking at me with a fond slack in his eyestalks. 

<You have praise for a Yeerk?> I asked. <What were you two talking about?>

<Well, most Yeerks we've met and spoken to don't seem very interested in much beyond winning the war or escaping it,> Ax explained. <It was simply nice to discuss things with someone whose mindset isn't so….  _ Planetary. _ >

"Sorry us Earth-provincials aren't interested enough in the world beyond the problems right in front of us," Marco interjected, sounding hurt. 

<You know what I meant,> Ax said sternly, tempering it with a stoke of Marco's head. I used to do that to Rachel. I miss it. 

<Well, what did you talk about?> I repeated, starting to get a little impatient. 

Ax's gave a shudder and kicked a hoof–and Andalite sigh–then rose from his sitting position. 

<It would be easier for you to understand if I just  _ showed _ you,> he said, slightly annoyed. Drawing himself up, he beckoned us humans outside the his scoop to a clearing in the woods, kicking dead leaves away to reveal a patch of dirt. Using his tail blade, he sketched out a rough pinwheel shape on the ground while I watched from a tree. <I assume you're both familiar with the shape of our galaxy?>

"Of course," Marco snorted, picking up a stick and poking a hole in the dirt roughly a third of the way up one of the spiral arms. "That's us."

<Very good!> Ax beamed, definitely surprised. Marco does a good job of hiding it, but he isn't a  _ total _ clod. Ax poked a few more holes, seemingly at random, before tracing rough blobs around them. <Each of these represents the space controlled by the different species currently active in the Galaxy.>

I immediately began to worry: Earth is surrounded. There's no buffer zone around us, from what Ax sketched out, it looked like we were the galactic Lesotho, or an Indian reservation or something. 

<Here are the Yeerks,> Ax stated, shading one of the blobs with thin, parallel scratches. I was surprised at how small the Yeerk's portion of space was compared to some of the other polities. Ax followed suit by scratching intersecting lines in a larger, neighboring blob. <This is Andalite space.>

<So, the rest are Anati, Kelbrids, Hawjabrawn, Ron, and….?> I guessed, plucking species I'd heard Ax mention in passing. 

<Those are a few,> Ax nodded, pointing to a few polities in turn. <The Yeerk's plan revolves around extracting Earth from anyone else's sphere of influence. However weak you are now, you will soon be the deciding force in any galactic war you will join. Our galaxy is nearly mined out; everything useful that isn't currently in active stars has been mined, used, and likely lost or taken elsewhere.>

"Wait, so our galaxy is just a husk?" Marco balked. 

<Yes. That is why it has these spiral arms; most of the heavy mass not in stars and black holes has been transported elsewhere. It is theorized that some of the elder species may have transcended physical reality, and others suggest they migrated to a new galaxy. Fringe theorists blame Crayak, insisting that they have a massive cache of metals, simply waiting to use them when it will be more efficient to do so.>

<That's, really bleak,> I said, feeling as hollow as the galaxy was purported to be. I figured our future would be like Star Wars, not Mad Max, with bands of aliens fighting over resources in a dying landscape. 

<Oh, not to worry,> Ax replied, not missing a beat. Marco seemed a little more relaxed than me, too; probably their isthanoc thingy. <The Andalite ships will reach neighboring galaxies in a mere hundred years, assuming their stasis equipment holds out that long. Gravitational data suggests that our neighboring galaxies have plenty of resources to go around. Moreover, humanity is quite lucky; you have three planets made almost entirely of metals, not to mention a large asteroid belt, and four gas giants to draw from. You need not worry.>

"So, uh, what's the Andalite home system like, if we're so lucky?" Marco asked, staring down at the crude map. 

<We have two barren moons made of silicates, much like yours, but very few metals. In fact, most of the metals Andalite have ever used in any capacity have been either created via fusion–a very long, inefficient process with low yields of iron and lower elements–or taken from Elder species battle debris found elsewhere,> Ax explained, as if it was perfectly normal. This  _ was _ like Mad Max. But I finally understood the controller's plan, now. We were the kid in class with the crayola 64 pack, and we could charge people to use our crappy plastic crayon sharpener. 

<I get it,> I said, and Ax nodded. 

<What we were discussing was the issue of Human neutrality,> Ax revealed. <It would be best if you allied with the Andalites from the beginning, but ensuring nobody intercede in your system is likely the best course of action.>

"That's kinda for us to decide, dude," Marco pointed out, to which Ax simpered and leaned into his shoulder. 

<Humans are smarter than I once thought. I'm certain your leaders will come to the same conclusion,> he said diplomatically. <If not, I expect there would be a courtship period, where every race attempts to market themselves, likely until you reach a proper space presence.>

<Anyone but the Yeerks or the Helmacrons,> I agreed. 

"Pff, can you imagine if we were allied to the munchkins?" Marco laughed. 

<'We demand to be taken seriously',> I said in my best Helmacron impression, and they both laughed. Feeling my work here was done, I raised a wing. 

<Good to see you two, sorry for being the third wheel,> I said jokingly. 

<Third wheel?> Ax asked, looking at me with his stalk eyes, while looking quite confused at Marco. 

"You know like on a bike," Marco explained. As I took flight, I could just make out Marco saying that Ax needed to learn how to ride one. Can you even imagine? 

I would pay good money to watch  _ that.  _

  
  



End file.
